Heroes of War
by devilishlysas
Summary: In a war torn far future, Sylar looses hope and seeks out his touchstone. Only to find that nothing can stay the same forever...even them. Warnings: violence; graphic imagery; spoilers seasons 1-3. Disclaimer: I don't own heroes, I'm just playing with it.
1. The Commander

**Title: Heroes of War**

**Author: devilishlysas**

**Rating: NC-17 **

**Pairing: Sylar / Claire mostly**

**Summary: In a war torn far future, Sylar looses hope and seeks out his touchstone. Only to find that nothing can stay the same forever... even them.**

**Warning: mostly violence; graphic imagery; some sexual scenes. Spoilers throughout season 1-3**

**Chapter 1: The Commander**

His fingers slid along her thighs, feather light, he didn't want to wake her, she was so much more peaceful this way. The over large t-shirt she wore slid up at his insistence, _when had she started wearing anything to bed? _His hands wavered over her skin, and he lowered his hovering form until he could feel her breath fanning out over his lips. It wouldn't take much to lower that extra inch or two, to press his lips to hers... there was a time when he wouldn't have hesitated.

There was a loud snore from the body in the bunk next to hers, Sylar spared the huge mountain of muscle a glance, he was sleeping restlessly his gun lay next to him, with a hand curled loosely around it. His eyes switched to the bunk on the opposite side, his was beneath his pillow. Sylar closed his eyes briefly before turning back to her, her eyes were open and she was staring at him coolly, he could see the debate warring out over her features. She could strike him, there was every chance she would be fast enough to reach the weapon he knew was beneath her own pillow. Or she could make a noise, any noise would do it, a grunt, a scream, even her silent body thrashing would wake the sleeping marines.

He smirked down at her and lifted his hands up from their position around her thighs, holding them out in front as if it would placate her. Her eyes darted for the barest of seconds to _her_ men; he did hate the notion, that she was surrounded by nothing less than an army. It made these visits somewhat hazardous to his health, particular in the middle of a war zone.

Her mouth opened and she mouthed soundlessly. '_Leave_!'

He narrowed his eyes, he hated it when she gave him orders, but she was so used to barking them now, of having fully grown men jump through hoops for her, that she didn't take his resistance well.

Sylar shook his head sharply, grinning at the way her hand slid surreptitiously beneath the thin material she had stuffed under her head as a pillow, going for her weapon. He flicked out his wrist, forcing his will upon her, attempting to control her as he had once done so easily. But she wasn't the same terrified high school cheerleader anymore, and his mind screamed in agony as she fought him, until the control snapped, and her arm shot beneath the pillow withdrawing the automatic pistol so fast that it was pressed against his forehead before he could even think about preventing it.

"I said get out!" she snarled. There was a sharp grunt and the large figures on either side rolled out of the bed, weapons sliding into hands with practiced ease.

"What the fuck!" one snarled and the gun against his forehead pressed more insistently. "Commander, everything in hand?" his terse voice alerted others, weapons clicked and he felt the scopes line up against his head.

"Everything's fine. Mr Gabriel Sylar was just leaving."

"Yes Ma'am." The grunt to her left snapped, but his weapon didn't waver. "You are aware that Mr Sylar is floating in mid air above your bed?"

"It's a bad habit of his." She snapped.

His patience wasn't infinite, "I'm not leaving Claire." He snarled, she might have been able to resist some of his more cerebral abilities, but he had plenty of others he had been itching to use for some time now. But there was a small rustle of surprise that went through the rather small room, that was currently packed full with well trained, testosterone fuelled marines, that had apparently just found out their precious Commander's first name.

"Claire's dead." She hissed and he winced as the gun pressed into his forehead with more intensity. "Don't you remember... you killed her!"

"Commander?" Trigger fingers were brushing impatiently.

"You won't shoot me Claire-bear." He smirked at the fire that blazed behind her eyes. "Besides, it wouldn't do you any good, you don't even know how to kill me; you don't even know how to kill yourself." The gun went off and he focussed every inch of his ability on keeping the round out of his cranium, the weapon backfired and the round exploded in the chamber, taking her hand clean off and leaving quite a mess. The sound of gunfire from all around dropped his concentration and he landed with a heavy thud directly over her, his hands held wide to keep the bullets at bay, so that they hovered in the air inches from him.

"Stop!" Claire screeched the order, shoving at his chest her hand reforming as she used it to deliver a blow to his cheek whilst he was distracted with the hail of bullets. It snapped his concentration and the bullets dropped to the floor like metal rain. But her men were trained well, they stopped as one, fingers positioned, eyes trained on his head. They'd obliterate him at her command, and he spotted one or two with weapons that gave him mild concern... energy rounds, he shuddered they really did make a mess.

"I'm not here to fight you!" he hissed, lifting his body off her enough so that he wasn't crushing her still tiny form with his weight.

"Well that would be a nice surprise Gabriel." Her eyes were hard and her tone brooked no escape, he wondered if she would really kill him this time; she certainly had the man power.

"You'd miss me." He quipped, and for a fraction of a second something tugged at the corners of her lips, he wouldn't call it a smile, but it wasn't a grimace either.

"Other than to molest me, what the hell are you doing here? You've got fifteen seconds to state your case." She snapped a signal off with her hands to her waiting grunts and he frowned, he wasn't familiar with what she'd signed them, apparently he'd been away too long.

It pained him to open up to her, to come to her like this, but there was really no option now. "I've been living in Paris." His voice shook slightly and he locked eyes with hers. "I'd made a life there." Her eyes narrowed and she simply watched him, he wasn't going to explain about the family he'd started, about the woman who had loved him, the son she had given him. About the friends...his job. The normality of simply being Gabriel again.

"You survived?" she asked quietly after a moment.

"Of course." He bit back, and this time she did smirk.

"It's always a bitch that... I'd have more pity for you Sylar, but then you wanted this. Wanted to be _special_!" amusement danced in her eyes and he fought to control his temper, Claire was a cold hearted bitch, but he'd known that coming in here.

"So what do you want... revenge?" Claire crossed her arms, and glared up at him, not in the least bit concerned that he was still pinning her to the bed with his lower half.

"Yes." Rage suffused that one word and she cocked her head observing him.

"Why come to me?" She asked finally, there was another gesture to her men and those at the back broke off, only the four surrounding her bed remained with weapons trained on him... her best. "If you're looking for someone to blame, I suggest you look up; or down." she snorted clearly finding something amusing. Rolling her eyes at his expression she continued. "We did our best to stop that from happening. Lost a lot of good people."

"I'm not blaming you." Sylar snarled, feeling that irritation that he always associated with her, creeping in behind his eyes.

"I thought I could ignore this. That it would blow over, that I didn't have to get involved."

"Coward." She hissed and he slammed his hands down on either side of her head, there was a click from behind him and a gun pressed between his shoulder blades. His hands crackled with blue lightening and Claire looked over his shoulder, the gun withdrew.

"Don't you dare." He snarled. "I have done my bit. But they never learn, it's always the same damn thing, one war after another!"

"I appreciate the sentiment Sylar. But in case you've only just woken up to the fact, we didn't start this war... they did." Claire was right of course, and he hated her for that, he was used to being right, the idea that the former pacifist had known when to get involved when the killer had retreated rankled.

"I want to join your team."

Her bark of laughter sent his whole body rigid and he struggled to hold onto his abilities, not to simply unleash his fury upon her... not that it would do any good, but it might have made him feel a little better.

Claire's laughter died away, but it had never reached her eyes, she wasn't amused in the slightest. "Why in hell would I let you within three feet of me and my team?"

"Because you're the best; isn't that what they say... Commander?" her rank perhaps got her attention more than anything else.

"Which is why there is no place for you Gabriel." She always liked to use his first name when she wanted her words to have that little extra sting.

"Bull." He hissed, leaning closer. "You damn well know I can be of use. Those... things." He snarled, unable to even say it. "I can hurt them. This won't be my first war Claire."

Claire shoved at his chest and he obliged, sliding back off her to kneel up giving her space. She slid out from beneath him with almost feline grace, her tiny form sliding between the men; _'her men',_ that hadn't relented; she was almost dwarfed by their crouched figures.

"I can't use you Sylar." She turned away from him, and he got the distinct impression he was dismissed.

"Don't you walk away!" he snarled and unleashed a bolt of electricity into her back, but her men didn't react and she spun on him, her eyes blazing, apparently her boys weren't worried about a little electricity to her.

Claire's eyes narrowed on him and she placed one hand on her hip, the disdain twisting her features was quite something. Her blonde hair spilled down around her shoulders, not her usual style, or so he'd seen from the images HQ broadcast; in truth he really had left it too long this time, she was different, even for her and her ever adaptive personality. But as he observed the more casual attire, the softer hair, it seemed to him that her squad were on some much needed down time for now.

"You don't take orders well Sylar." She finally spelled it out to him, snapping him from his revere. "Even if I could consider having you within my sight for more than five seconds every century... which by the way, I can't." She smirked at him and he felt the cut of her words solidly, she hadn't always known how to do that, and it bothered him that she'd only gotten better at it over the years, whilst he had apparently gotten worse. "You would compromise my team, you aren't trained... and don't start." Claire raised her hand. "This isn't like the last war, hell the weapons aren't even in the same category."

"I am a weapon!" he roared at her, the bellow of his voice rocking her back slightly on her feet and she brushed the dust that had blown up onto her shoulder away casually; as if men attempting to knock her over with the power of their voice was nothing more than a passing irritation.

"I don't trust you."

"Damn it Claire; give me a chance!" Her irritation showed and she glared solidly at him.

"That's Commander!" she barked deliberately and for once he didn't press, he was fully aware of what she'd done to earn that title and the undying loyalty of the men with the big guns.

"Find another team. You want to enlist, do your part. That's great; we could use all the help we can get. But you do it elsewhere. I don't want you near me, or my team." Her expression was flat and he realised she'd shut down on him; he'd get nothing from her. "I'll place a few calls, tell HQ to expect you, maybe then you can put your..." she hesitated and a dry smirk pulled at the corners of her mouth "talents." She settled on. "To good use for once."

"Claire." He tried one last time, letting her hear the pain in his voice, reaching for her.

"I owe you nothing Sylar." She reminded him sharply and he flinched at the rage in her eyes, he hadn't wanted to see her this way, this hadn't been his plan for them; once more he cursed himself for leaving her to her own devices for so long this time. "If I ever find your hands on me again I'll have you stuffed into a garbage pod and fired at the sun." His eye twitched, the threat was real and he felt the air leave him... she meant it this time. Something snapped in his chest, it felt like heartbreak, Claire had always been his constant, his touchstone to reality, to time and he had been hers; however much she'd hated him, she'd always needed him for that.

The realisation hit him soundly and he felt fear, true fear for the first time in centuries. "You don't think we can win."

Claire's lips pursed into a thin line and she raised her chin defiantly. "We will."

The lie reverberated around in his skull, shuddering down his back, and drawing his wide eyes to her as he watched her hand ruffle the hair of the closest marine, as they thumped each other in the arms, "Hell yes we will!" they barked in one form or another, but her eyes were cold as she met his and he felt his blood chill.

_What was the use of a touchstone if there was no more forever?_


	2. Orders

**Chapter 2: Orders **

Claire watched as Sylar launched himself into the air and flew away with a muffled pop; she'd make the call to HQ, but whether he would show up remained to be seen.

Someone approached from behind, making enough noise to alert her to their presence so she didn't react as a large solid hand came down solidly on her shoulder and squeezed lightly.

"So... Boss." Claire rolled her eyes, she could hear the laughter in Cole's voice, could see this coming a mile off.

"Don't." She warned, not looking back but perfectly aware that there was an audience now, that was if the sudden rise in tension she felt tickle the hairs on the back of her neck was right, which it usually was.

"Claire?" Cole's voice played over the name, turning it into something soft, feminine, just as it was intended; there was a rumble from deep in his throat as he attempted to stifle the full blown laugh she knew was brewing.

Spinning on her heel and knocking his hands off in one sudden movement, Claire turned to glare up at him and raised her eyebrow. "Gregory." She replied her soft voice making his name seem almost as soft as he had made hers, but there was a note of warning in her tone as she attempted to fight fire with fire. The son of a bitch's smirk just grew.

A new voice chimed in, his laughter giving it a throaty sound, "It's a very pretty name boss." her eyes snapped to the new voice, Brix, he hastily looked at his shoes, but his shoulders were shaking in silent laughter.

Claire paused, her eyes flickering to her men, all of them were stood trying to look like their positions were idle, not easy for men that were walking walls of muscle, at least most had the good sense to look at the floor.

"God I hate that man!" She snarled he'd appeared back in her life for 5 minutes and he was already causing chaos. Slapping Brix upside the head she stalked away, brushing past the large marines with easy grace; she attempted to ignore the raucous laughter that followed. They wisely chose to stay outside the tent while they laughed it off, and they no doubt hoped she'd cool off. She supposed she could forgive them this; it wasn't like they had the opportunity of using something so juicy against her very often... or ever. Damn Sylar.

Walking to the back of the tent towards her bunk, her eyes were drawn to the only person remaining inside, he sat on his bunk cleaning his rifle, he glanced up at her as she entered then returned to his task. Claire sat down on the bunk opposite his and stared at the face of her second in command, Derek Addy... or 'Daddio', not her choice of nickname, but it seemed to have stuck. At least he was a good second, loyal, smart, tough, not much of a sense of humour, but she thought that was somewhat overrated. Physically he was everything she needed in a soldier, 6 ft 5 pushing 300lbs and a wall of pure muscle, solid square jaw that could take a hit, and a nose broken several times over that proved just that. His sharp crystal blue eyes locked on hers, they never did miss anything. Though she'd never admit it out loud, and hardly ever to herself, his eyes always reminded her of someone else... another man, another soldier, who'd always had a sheen of glass in his horn rimmed glasses between her and eyes like that.

Derek's voice came out gruff, "You want to talk about it?" he wasn't meeting her eyes, instead keeping them fixed on his rifle.

"What's to talk about?" she replied smoothly.

He shrugged, "Well, there's the guy with the crazy eyes who flew into this highly secure location, flinging electricity from his hands." Slowly and deliberately he placed his weapon upright against his bunk before finally looking at her.

Claire pursed her lips together, but that didn't seem to deter him. "He knew your name, hell I didn't even know the real one. And forgive me but he seemed more than a little comfortable sliding his hands along your skin." His voice gave away nothing, as ever he was the picture of control.

Claire quirked an eyebrow at him, of course like the others he wasn't just going to let finding out her real name pass him by, but he seemed more focused on Sylar's hands rather than his words.

"Don't tell me you're jealous?" she teased lightly, trying to hide her exasperation.

"Don't tell me you didn't notice where his hands were?" he shot back with just a touch of irritation, which was more than he usually gave away. She smirked and his expression darkened. "I've seen you break men in half for far less." His eyes pinned her and she could see the way his hands had twisted into fists which he kept pressed firmly against his thighs. Claire met his glare evenly, he was an intimidating man before he tried to prise information out of you, but then she liked to think she was immune to that particular skill of his.

"You are jealous." She bated him, knowing that whilst he was a master of self control, she was the one thing that could get under his skin. Ordinarily she wouldn't play this game, but they were on down time and that always left her restless and a little bored. Once upon a time the idea of picking a fight with someone because she was bored would have seemed a little petty... but she was 683 years old and life, several in fact, had taught her that you had to take amusement wherever you could find it.

Derek snorted, drawing her attention back as he rubbed his hand through his cropped short dark hair, before opening his arms wide and flexing every muscle in his chest and arms individually. "Now why would a great looking specimen like me be jealous?" he smirked at her, completely refusing to play her little game and trying one of his own instead.

Claire laughed lightly, "Don't flatter yourself." She collapsed back against the thin hard mattress regretting her hormone driven decision to sleep with him in the first place. It was one of the major drawbacks to having a teenager's body for eternity. All her relationships seemed to end the same way, she'd back off when it got too serious or lasted that little bit too long... and they wouldn't. Not that she'd admit it, but Sylar was almost case and point in that, his little stunt earlier still rankled and she felt irritation coiling inside of her. Why he felt like he had the right to show up in her life whenever he damn well pleased she had no idea. Ok that was a lie, she knew why, lying to yourself got old, but damn if Sylar couldn't make her do it still.

Poor Derek didn't have a lot of choice, he was assigned here, to her, which was why she usually made it a rule not to sleep with anyone who was, or might, end up on her team. At least he was a vast improvement on her usual type, which tended to be a little clingy and a tad overly emotional and there was the bonus of the fact that technically as his superior she could pull rank on him at any point... and he was such a good soldier, she smirked inwardly at the thought.

Her bed bowed with the extra weight as he knelt on the small camp bed and caused the springs to groan unpleasantly. Claire kept her eyes fixed on the roof of the tent, well she called it a tent, but it was a metal mesh material that would shield them from a direct airstrike if needed. Hands curled around her ankles and yanked her violently downwards, she'd have reacted but somehow Derek always seemed to know when he would be allowed to push.

He dragged her legs up to his chest, pressing a kiss to each knee as he tucked them under his chin and slid his hands slowly along her thighs, pushing aside the pathetic cover the overlong t-shirt offered. Derek's hands were rough, calloused, the hands of a soldier, they skimmed over her perfect unblemished skin and she heard him groan as he reached her hips, dragging her closer so that his own hips could press against her ass, letting her know just how jealous he was feeling.

Claire arched her back as he slid rough hands along her flat stomach, causing her to clench it, his fingers widened and she felt suddenly fragile again beneath him as his hands almost spanned her entire waist. Okay, so maybe just this once she could let him play his game.

"I am such a lucky bastard." He rumbled, lifting one leg so he could bite sharply against the back of her knee which caused her hands to fist the cotton sheet beneath her.

Noise drew her attention to the metal door, there was laughter and raised voices as her squad approached; the door swung inwards; apparently her boys were back... not that she had anything against women, but they never seemed to cut it on her team.

"OUT!" Derek barked sharply, turning his eyes which had turned as hard as ice on the offending marines.

Claire turned her head to find Brix staring somewhat open mouthed in the doorway; apparently her not-so-secret affair with her Captain had just gone public. Fucking Sylar.

"Brix, and whoever the hell else is with you!" Claire snapped, trying to control her breathing as Derek's hands continued sliding along her ribcage, his attention once again on her and apparently becoming oblivious to their audience. "If you step over that threshold I will shoot you!" There was a slam and silence before she heard whoops and lewd remarks through the cracks in the metal mesh.

Derek snorted out a laugh and grasped her jaw in one large hand kissing her roughly, he always liked it when she gave orders. She tore her mouth away and fisted his hair, dragging his head down to her chest, "This day is not doing my credibility any favours." Claire muttered and gasped sharply as his hand palmed her breast roughly, whilst his mouth and tongue dropped lower to continue their ministrations at the back of her knee. In her time she'd had sex every which way, she'd had thousands of partners, most of the time she chose to wield it as a weapon, one she was extremely skilled at using... but Derek. Claire laughed before letting it subside into a moan as his mouth latched onto her inner thigh. There was no difference in his actions to those a thousand men had used on her, yet somehow she was always surprised when he got exactly the response he wanted out of her. Surprised that she always let him get that response.

"Don't be ridiculous." He rasped, sending a shiver down her spine as he spoke directly into her skin. "They worship the ground you walk on." He leant forward and she groaned at the loss of his mouth until he brushed her lips with his. "We all do." He buried his head in her neck and she eased up the brutal grip she had on his short hair, enjoying the feel of it instead against her fingertips. Derek pulled back and grasped her face in his large hands, lowering his far larger body against her soft one until she was pressed flat against the mattress. Anyone looking would assume she was dominated, trapped, but as his eyes found hers she couldn't help but offer him a rare smile that lit her eyes.

Derek wasn't a gentle man, far from it, he was a soldier, and unlike her he had never had a 'normal' life, a 'normal' childhood, which in comparison to his hers most definitely had been. War was all he knew, he'd been bred for it, trained from childhood to do one thing and to do it well. She admired that focus, that belief, that he was the best; he never questioned that conviction, or his purpose... he was born to kill, to fight, to defend. His fingertips traced over her eyelids and she closed them obligingly; he always knew when she was thinking too much instead of just experiencing.

Once again she acknowledged that fact that she didn't like lying to herself, even small lies, there was little point after being stuck within her own mind for so long. She knew exactly why she'd broken that one rule when she'd first set eyes on him... it was for this, the way he held her, like she was a butterfly and his every touch might tear her wings, not so different to a way another man had held her... a long time ago. Yet he was different to that man in so many ways, the most important being that the moment they were in a war zone, he never once looked at her like she was in any way fragile, never tried to protect her needlessly, he trusted her to do her job... to lead them.

"How do you do that?" she breathed, opening her eyes and tracing her index finger across his bottom lip, until he pressed a kiss to it.

"Do what?" he asked, levering himself up off her so that he could see her face more clearly, whilst leaving his hard heat pressed against the strip of material between her legs.

"Look at me like that, what are you seeing?" his lips curled up faintly amused and he lowered his head slowly, teasing her, as he pressed light kisses to her lips, but never giving her what she wanted. But whatever it was he thought she was in his arms, whatever he wanted her to be, he wasn't going to answer and as his mouth latched onto a breast, she lost the will to care.

When he thrust into her she arched her back sharply as he tore through her virginity, it was an unfortunate quirk of her biology, but at least painless as she was it wasn't one that she tended to dwell on. He stilled inside of her, he always did, and no amount of protesting from her would make him move until he was good and ready. His eyes were squeezed shut, but she was certain it wasn't because he was struggling for control, more like he was savouring it; it'd almost be sweet if she wasn't so wound up. It was a flat out lie, that with time came patience, wisdom maybe she'd agree on, but patience... rubbish. She grasped his hair in frustration attempting to drag him back to the task at hand.

"Derek, for the love of god, move!" She hissed, attempting to shift her hips, but beneath his weight she might as well not have bothered. He groaned and pressed his mouth to hers almost desperately, his tongue duelled with hers until she was gasping for air and her lips felt numb. He was so lost in the moment that he didn't even notice her sliding her leg outside his and pushing her other one between his legs, her arm went to his shoulder and using all the strength of her fatigue free and painless muscles she shoved and twisted. Derek's back hit the mattress and she pressed her hands flat against his chest straddling him.

"Fuck me that's hot." Her eyes snapped to the voice that came through a crack in the mesh, there was a rustle of movement and muffled curses. She'd have been more bothered, but it wasn't like her team hadn't seen her buck naked before... granted she wasn't usually riding her Captain.

Perhaps she should have barked an order at them, they would listen, hell if she wanted she could probably get them to drop to their hands and do push ups until she emerged, never once peeping in again.

But as she rocked forwards and Derek's answering groan was met by several from outside she closed her eyes and let them have their moment. Her boys... and they were hers, they would die for her, she knew that, and it hurt that she couldn't do the same for them.

It was strange her whole life she'd wanted to be loved, put first, and here it was in a shit hole part of the world, with the constant threat of death from above and below that she'd found it... again.

"Fuck him..."

"That's right, fuck him."

"Sweet mother of God..."

She smirked and rolled her hips causing Derek to grip her more tightly and let out a strangled grunt. They'd never command him to fuck her... that wasn't how this worked, she was in charge, and right now every single one of her '_boys' _was imagining her doing the same thing to them; wanting it so badly they could taste it, fisting their hands around rock hard cocks.

The fact that she was cruel was common knowledge, that she was twisted was slightly less so, but that idea that she was easy, wasn't even going to be a flicker in anyone's mind. Only her team knew that she wielded sex like a weapon, that she was perfectly comfortable using it to keep order. And her boys would die before they told anyone her secrets, least of all HQ.

Claire let her head roll back, the unusual sight of her newly re-blonde hair swing against the golden skin of her back. Derek's hands rose to palm her breasts and she bit her lip as he combined it with a truly deep thrust that she felt rattle her teeth. She pulled his hands away roughly, settling them at her hips instead much to the approval of the audience; they wanted to see her this way, all of her, exposed like this.

"You don't have to do this." Derek rasped, biting down hard on his lip as he bucked powerfully beneath her. "They already love you." She moaned loudly as he brushed her cervix, his hand slid from around her hip to settle between her legs, rubbing savagely until she was gasping around the knot low in her abdomen. "Come for us," he rasped doing his damndest to make it hard for her to not comply, "Come for us Claire." Her name from his rough lips, sounded more like a prayer, and she obliged him; she let out a cry as she trembled all around him, until he was thrusting and ejaculating wildly into her convulsing core.

Claire didn't wait for him to regain his composure, she slid off and threw his pants at him, her mood switching just as quickly as it had come on. "Since you all clearly have nothing else to do!" she snapped loud enough for the group of hastily retreating marines to hear, "Our new supplies need inventorying; and the gear needs cleaning... all of it." Her eyes fixed on Derek's as he stared evenly back at her from his undignified position, "See that it gets done." She snapped at him, keeping her eyes deliberately on his face rather than his impressive muscle tone as he rolled off the bed to shrug himself into his pants.

"I was going to protest to HQ, but seeing as you're all so eager for action..." she smirked at his suddenly darkening expression that was unable to hide the sudden hitch in his breathing, he really was born for war and nothing could excite him more than the prospect of it, which was in direct contrast from the groans of disappointment from outside; "Our leave was cut short. We're shipping out in two days."

"Where?" he called after her retreating form, she glanced back at him, noticing the hard set to his features, but the mask of the soldier was falling back into place a little more slowly than normal.

Claire sighed, "Subterranean."


	3. Subterranean

**A/N: Thanks to those of you who have reviewed and favourite this story, it's nice to be able to share them with people enjoy this pairing as much as I do. This is a bit of a first for me in that normally I write a fic to completion before posting it. This one whilst being almost done is constantly changing, at one point it was in fact two fics that I took elements from and made in to one better whole. Hope you enjoy the rest, and don't worry it's not the last we've seen of Sylar.**

**Chapter 3: Subterranean**

**(3 days later)**

Derek pulled his armour firmly around his chest, checking he had all his equipment, and attempting not to look like he was waiting for her. The Commander's voice drifted over the noise of the soldiers, the engines, the occasionally smatter of gunfire as weapons were prepped. Her hair was still blonde, it glinted in the unusually bright sunlight, despite the severe way she had braided it and pulled it back as she spoke sharply into the com; she looked more natural that way, but he wasn't stupid enough to think it made her softer. He looked away and shook his head, he was a fool... worse. The Commander wasn't a woman you staked a claim on, wasn't someone you let yourself fall in love with, oh you could love her as countless hundreds had already shown; but actually being in love with her... that was just inviting pain.

She signed off her com and he felt her approach, he kept his posture rigid, the Commander could read people like a book, him easiest of all, practice he supposed, god knows she'd had long enough.

"We all set?" she asked, leafing through some of the plans he had laid out half heartedly.

"Yes Ma'am." He replied firmly, he'd triple checked everything, gone over the blue-prints a hundred times already, there were no mistakes. Of course she'd probably already done the same, only better and in half the time.

Brix's voice crackled across her com. "Commander, I got HQ on the line, they want to speak with you asap." Derek watched her expression darken, a call this late on was never good, they were almost ready to go. She flicked her com and accepted the transmission.

"This is the Commander." She snapped, not taking her eyes off the blueprints and maps he'd laid out. She nodded in that way that told him she was only half listening, before her expression darkened and her hand fisted on the hood of the vehicle.

"What?" she snarled into the com, looking every inch like the hard ass bitch he knew she hid beneath that soft shell.

There was a commotion behind; he grasped his energy pistol having it drawn before he'd even turned, just in time to see the dark haired, wild eyed, son of a bitch from before, land and start stalking towards them with a smirk in place. Derek didn't drop his aim, this 'Sylar' could stand there all he wanted but if he got within three feet of the Commander he'd blow his entire head off... he'd like to see him grow that back.

"He's here." She continued in that sharp tone talking to whichever General it was that was going to be out of a job when she got back. "I thought I made myself clear." She snapped her hand on her hip, never a good sign. Sylar was closer now, but he seemed to hesitate at not only her clear irritation, but at the additional squad members that had appeared from the woodwork. "I don't need his god damn help. Nor would I want it even if I did." She hissed turning to look Sylar right in the eye as she continued to argue with HQ. "I don't give a rat's ass what your psychic says!"

Derek's eyebrows rose at that, she normally had more than a healthy respect for Psy ops and their advice. "I'll see you on your ass for this General." She threatened, it was as good as signing his papers, no doubt the good General would be gone before the morning. Everyone with any sense at all was perfectly aware that HQ might give the orders but it was the Commander that ran this war. The com flicked off and she glared soundly at Sylar, the man's smirk grew and Derek felt his grip on his pistol tighten, no one looked at her that way; not that lived to tell about it; himself included.

Sylar stopped a pace away from her, hands across his chest, that fucking grin cracking his face. "Looks like we'll be spending more than 5seconds with each other this Century after all." He quipped as his eyes flashed with amusement at her obvious distaste at him for throwing her words back at her.

"We'll see. I'm betting you get 5seconds in and manage to get blown to bits." Claire smiled, that thin dangerous smile that even Sylar seemed to have the sense to wipe the smirk off his face for.

"HQ thinks you need me down there." Sylar's eyes flickered to his and he kept his expression carefully neutral. "They seem to think that there's a threat to you, and when I say you," he held his eyes for a second before switching to the Commander, "I mean _her_, specifically, down there." Derek felt his knuckles whiten as his grip tightened, this was why you could love your Commander but not be in love with her... shit like this happened.

"Then I guess we're glad you're aboard." Derek smiled just as thinly at him, before dropping the weapon and holstering it as he struggled to mask his emotions with bravado. "God forbid our squad would have to fend for themselves down there." There was a general chuckle of grim amusement from around the team and he shot Brix a sharp look that told him in no uncertain terms to watch this bastard. There was a sharp nod in turn from Brix, followed by Hosea and Cole, they'd watch him down there, and watch the Commander's back. The day they needed an outsider to protect the squad was the day he rolled over and died.

---*---

Claire met Sylar's hard stare, HQ was worried, there was no way they'd disobey a direct order from her otherwise, and she had made her opinion on Sylar quite clear. He slunk up beside her and Derek snorted in amusement before leaving them alone to hash it out.

"I'm only going to say this once Sylar." She snapped using his chosen name for once, after all if he was on her team she sure as shit wanted the killer and not the watch-making loser. "You endanger my team and I'll put you down permanently." He was so close and she had to work not to give into the way her skin crawled at the sight of him now, even after all this time.

Sylar's hand rose and she felt her hand twitch; she'd tear it off if he touched her. He smirked and dropped it onto the vehicle hood instead pulling the maps into his view. "You know it wouldn't kill you to start trusting me, we're going to be on the same team."

"It might." She added snidely, pulling the maps away from him and rolling them up.

"Brix." She called, the small but compact marine stalked over to her. "Show him the ropes, I want him weapon ready before we ship out."

"That's in six hours." Brix pointed out his eyebrows rising up his forehead.

"He's a quick learner, or at least the person he killed for that ability was. I'm sure he'll keep up." Claire smiled thinly and Sylar's eyes darkened fractionally, she could see his fingers twitching, clearly he was wishing for a time when he could simply grip her by the throat and scare the shit out of her.

"Whatever you say boss." Brix nodded at Sylar. "Let's move then Sparky."

Sylar raised a questioning eyebrow and she suppressed her amusement.

Brix smirked, "Take it or leave it my other choices were Flyboy and Eyebrows." Claire left them to it, the sooner Sylar was out of her sight the better her day would go. Derek made his way up to her close enough that his body-armour brushed her back. Sylar was watching her out of the corner of his eye; she knew that look on his face and deliberately grasped Derek's bicep as she turned to face him, just to piss Sylar off... petty yes, fun definitely, and given as where they were going she was going to take any fun she could beforehand.

"You want me to take care of him?" Derek asked quietly, not quietly enough, Sylar's eyes snapped to his and his lip curled unpleasantly.

The smirk rose unbidden and she didn't bother to squash it. "I'll let you know." Claire turned away, Sylar had disrupted her squad long enough today and they had to keep focussed, in a few hours they would be subterranean.

**(8 hours later)**

"Is this thing even safe?" Sylar asked looking more nervous than she'd ever seen him.

"Safe." Brix chuckled. "Ha!" He shook his head and Derek sent Sylar a smug look. "You should be more worried about the landing than this bucket of bolts falling apart." Brix chuckled further at Sylar's wide eyed expression, somehow she didn't think he'd been comforted by that, not if she was reading the look he levelled at her correctly, as she slammed the metal cage in place around him.

"You're indestructible... mostly. So suck it up." Claire told him smiling sweetly as she locked the main support frame securing them all to the Drop Cage. She deftly flicked the device attached to his temples and the visor shot out like a band across his eyes, but he didn't take his eyes of her as they narrowed. "Hey you wanted to be a soldier and soldiers take the express bus to hell." She told him trying not to sound too smug about his obvious nervousness.

"Hoorah!" Chorused all around her and she stalked down the line securing them all and activating their visors, which fed them all the information soldiers of days gone by would have given anything to recieve. Claire activated her own visor, trying to ignore the scroll of information about her armour, weapons, GPS, her bio readouts, her team's readouts and instead focussed on securing herself into her own frame and engaging the autopilot, she reached up and jammed down the metal bars locking herself in place; before placing her arms flat beside her body.

"Autopilot lock in Terminal 1." She commanded and her arm brackets sealed in place, she couldn't have moved even if she wanted to. "Ladies and Gentlemen!" She called out, knowing that those crazy ass grins were in place on her team's faces, half at the experience and half at the newer recruits that looked about ready to piss their pants. Why they had to share the express bus with these 'Greens' she never understood, they always came out more terrified than when they went in; which was useful in the sense that they tended to wander out and get shot, offering rather morbid but effective cover for the more effective members of her team.

But tradition was tradition, and she continued. "Please make sure your tray tables are in their upright and locked positions, because it's gonna be one hell of a bumpy ride!"

"Engage and Drop!" she commanded and the autopilot obeyed, the sound of grinding metal and gears as the engines engaged and the drills started flooded the small metal unit. She always loved this part... maybe that's why half the core thought she was insane.

The ground shuddered as the drills impacted and the engines ramped up, the smell of burning metal and earth assaulted her nose and she swallowed it happily. This was what she lived for. Then the ground began to fall away and they were plummeting in a mass of churning gears and earth as they punched their way through the hard rock and down further, into the cave systems that the bastards had tunnelled worldwide.

Then they passed through the final chunk of earth they reached freefall speeds. There were shouts and screams of surprise from the 'Green's', the smell of urine perforated the air and she couldn't hold back the manic laughter, as they reached terminal velocity and the whole contraption began to shudder and groan with the stress. She closed her eyes and just enjoyed the sensation, the idea that people had once worried about a little turbulence on planes was almost ridiculous to her now, she could just imagine strapping a bunch of 21st Century Americans into one of these and hearing them scream.

"We're gonna die!" Someone screamed.

"Not today!" she yelled back, "At least not until after we land." Apparently they heard her over the engine noise because the screams got louder.

The computer chimed in over the noise of the engines and the screaming, fed directly into her visor. "Reaching critical velocity, deploying drag."

They pitched forward and started spinning. Ok that wasn't so good.

"Primary drag deployment failure on starboard side." The computer informed her needlessly.

Claire felt her whole body press against the back of the roll cage with the force. "Deploy secondary stabilisers." She commanded, she hadn't had to use those damn things in years, this didn't bode well for the mission, it was already off to a bad, potentially fatal start.

They pitched again and the smell of urine increased and the pungent smell of vomit was added to the mix, although helpfully the culprit seemed too busy to scream now. The spin lessened and she was able to fix her eyes on the dials and information flashing across the visor in increasingly red and urgent text.

They were still falling way too fast to deploy chutes.

"Fuck." She snarled. "Emergency override Terminal 1." Her metal bindings snapped open and she lurched forward, to the scream of alarms.

"Terminal 1 unsecure." The computer reminded her and she ignored it with irritation as she grasped onto the control panel with her hands in an attempt to keep from hitting the roof. Her fingers flew over the controls, there were hydraulics failures.

"Commander!" Derek bellowed, clearly pissed she was out of her seat.

"Hydraulics failures across the board." She yelled back at him, trying to force the engines to rotate manually.

"Derek I need you to work that machine magic!" she ordered hearing yet more alarms blaring as they approached the ground with ever increasing speed. Her head snapped around to see him drop his head forward, eyes closed. New data began to scrawl across the visor, she recognised the coding and a small flicker of a smile pursed her lips. Her team wasn't the best for no reason; she watched as the controls were wrenched from the autopilot into Derek's, her tech man.

"Sylar." She barked, turning to meet his dark slightly panicked eyes. "I need you to slow us with whatever you got." His eyes widened.

"We weigh close to 1000tons." He snarled looking at her like she was insane.

"I said with whatever strain those mental muscles!" she snapped at him, his eyes just widened in what she recognised as indignance, irritation and no small amount of panic. "Just try damn it! Or you're going to be testing regeneration to its limits very soon, how many pieces do you think we're going to end up in!"

With her eyes glued to the data screen she watched as Derek managed to override the primary locks and the engines rotated with a god awful grinding noise that only increased the vibrations throughout the metal cage. Then Derek began to cycle the fuel tanks.

"Single sustained burst for 10 seconds." She barked at Derek's slumped form. Her fingers flipped open the emergency manual chute controls, they'd need every single piece of material in the air.

"Now!" she barked, it was followed by a loud boom and they were all yanked violently back against the metal frames, their heads clattering inside helmets into the roll cages surrounding them. But it was working the data stream informed her with almost manic bursts of information that once upon a time would have seemed too much to comprehend, let alone respond to. The readout's weren't wrong, their descent was slowing, she could feel it as her whole body began to feel heavier as gravity reasserted itself and the clock ticked down the burn. The fuel alarms clamoured for attention as Derek drained them and several of the bulkeds started to buckle, when the tanks dried out and the engines died with what was almost a wail, she slammed her hand down onto the button.

There was no way to hold on as her body was wrenched violently and she slammed into the roof of the drop cage which quite effectively shattered her spine, before being slung towards the buckling metal.

Derek's head snapped up, his job done but his eyes widened as they focused on the cage deteriorating around them, the metal groaned with her sudden impact and the bolts popped out of the wall.

"Shit." She acknowledged, trying to crawl away and grasp onto something even as her spine slid back into place returning movement fully. Something slammed into her chest and she gasped winded as she was hurled through the air and straight into Terminal 1. The metal brackets didn't engage but she at least had something to hold onto. She looped her arms and legs around the roll cage and clung on for dear life, aware that the force that had hurled her was currently pressing her still closer into the cage. Her eyes found Sylar's and she nodded sharply at him, if they lived, she'd thank him.

The impact with the ground came with bone jarring force that even her painless joints felt, she had a brief second to contemplate the reason disengaging from the personal roll cages wasn't a good idea, before it all went black.

"Oh Fuck, fuck fuck!" the voices roused her and she tasted blood.

"Jesus fuck she's dead, she's fucking dead, we're fucking dead!"

"Shut it!"

"I've seen her worse."

"She'll make it!"

Lying there, sound filtering in Claire could make out the sounds of energy weapons being discharged beyond the metal walls and the smatter of answering gunfire.

"We gotta get out of these fucking things... we're shit in a can like this!"

"Captain! Do something."

"Like what? They're mechanically locked I can't budge them, and the computers had it. I can't make it do a damn thing when it's busted like that." Derek barked back.

"We're gonna die, Jesus fuck we didn't even get out the cage."

Claire drew in a shuddering breath and heard something unpleasant rattling. Her eyes snapped open and she attempted to lift her body.

"Commander!"

"I told you mother fucker; you can't kill that bitch!"

"Jesus yes."

"Help us, help us, for the love of god get us out of here!"

Claire tried to block out the sounds of the panicked 'Greens' and listen instead to her squad.

"Commander we got hostiles on the ground."

"Energy discharges, no less than half a click away."

"Emergency systems have failed, there's no budging the roll cages."

Scanning the area she gave a cursory glance at her arms, which were on the floor beside her, she stared at them for a moment, oddly enough she'd never lost them both at the same time before.

"Fuck she's got no arms." A 'Green' pointed out helpfully.

"Not yet." She snapped, shifting her shoulders and willing her limbs to regrow. Bone sprouted and she urged it faster as nerves and muscle joined it, both arms grew symmetrically until she could move the elbow then the wrist as her last finger sealed over she focused on her legs. Her hips were twisted oddly, with a growl of irritation she grasped onto the right leg and hurled it over the other, hearing the crunch of bones as they realigned but feeling nothing.

"Fuck... fuck."

"You got that right."

"Sickest thing I ever saw..."

Claire pulled herself to her feet and surveyed the damage. Her eyes fell first on her squad, all their eyes were open and fixed on her... good. She turned to the 'Greens', three had their heads down, and were immobile, the blood pooling beneath them or from impaled wounds let her know they weren't merely unconscious.

"Bad day." She muttered, stomping over to the manual release lever next to Terminal 1. The locks groaned but complied, and the cages released the metal brackets of the roll cages, sliding back with a hydraulic hiss as the marines jumped down.

"Move it, move it!" she barked at the 'Greens' that simply stood there frozen, looking the same shade as their unfortunate monickers. "Grab your gear grab a weapon and get the fuck out of this cage!" she screeched kicking the closest one in the ass with her heavy soled boot and sending him stumbling towards her squad where a rifle was promptly thrust into his hands.

Derek was already at work on the outer door, Brix and Cole levered it open and leapt outside, calling out the situation as they saw it.

"Is it usually like this?" Sylar was beside her, she hadn't even heard him... bad bad day. She glared up at him and grasped a rifle from the somewhat dented container and shoved it into his hands.

"No." She snarled; certain that he was the cause of her recent bad luck. "But this is war, so we don't get to bitch about it!" She snapped stalking away from him and readjusting her body armour, it was already blood slicked... fantastic, at least it was a small comfort to know that pretty soon it wouldn't be just hers.


	4. Hollow

**Chapter 4: Hollow**

The gunfire was deafening Sylar found it hard to focus his abilities, granted it could have been the nice little trip in the metal can of death Claire had treated him too. But as his ears rung and he was forced to close his eyes in an attempt to shut off that particular ability, which seemed to have reasserted itself with a vengeance, he chose to blame the noise. Opening his eyes when the roar had lessened, he focused in on Claire as she barked commands, already several feet away from him and showing no signs of slowing.

"Sylar move!" she snapped and he ducked as an energy blast missed him by inches. He hated non projectile weapons, he couldn't stop them with telepathy, couldn't influence their trajectory in anyway, and they'd sure as hell take his head off if he didn't move. This Century was really not shaping up the way he'd imagined, he was vulnerable again, mortal almost... and suddenly War seemed like a damn stupid idea. A hand went beneath his arm and he was tugged from both sides by Claire and Captain Derek, they dragged him down behind the outcropping they were using for cover.

"Wake up!" Claire hissed at him, physically shoving his head down. "God damn it I have enough to deal with without having to watch your back as well!" Once upon a time the idea of Claire having to protect him would have been almost laughable, but as she whipped her rifle out and began picking off targets with uncanny accuracy he suddenly felt hopelessly out of his depth. His mind buzzed and he grit his teeth, there wasn't even the option of using mental abilities to attack their enemy, their minds were too different, too... alien.

Fortunately for him, he didn't just have mental attacks. Lightening curled in his fist, if they could use energy weapons, so could he. The electricity leapt from his fingers, catching a group of them solidly, arching between their metal-like, exoskeletal armour, like a storm in a bottle. The grin curled onto his lips as he crossed the streams from his hands, the memory of his new-born son and his wife fuelling his rage... there hadn't even been enough of them left to bury.

"That's enough!" Claire's fist collided with his jaw and Derek's hands grasped his shoulders dragging him back behind cover, as energy blasts sailed over their heads carving a hole in the chest of the poor 'Green' kid that was too slow and didn't have them to protect him.

"You'd have thought someone with over half a millenia of experience would know how to stay alive!" she snapped as he rubbed his jaw, looking at him like he was an idiot. "I swear to god Sylar; that is the last time I save your ass. You want to be on my team; then pull your own ass out of the line of fire!" her hand signals were out again and he had little choice but to follow the ten other guys that seemed to understand what the hell she was talking about, and had their armour on straight. A couple of the 'Greens', fresher even than him, seemed to latch onto the fact that staying with Claire might keep them alive and darted after him. Half of them made it.

They reached the edge of the piece of rock they'd landed on and for the first time Sylar got a good look at where they were through the oppressive gloom, the dust and the eery lighting the energy blasts and alien tech were emitting; he felt his chest tighten and his stomach plummet.

"Fuck me." The more fortunate young 'Green' next to him muttered crossing himself sharply and staring open mouthed.

They were in a cavern that was by no means natural, carved out of the Earth's heart, supported only by the huge artificial constructs that floated above their heads, keeping the ground afloat and lighting up the whole damn think like giant macabre disco balls.

He'd heard about this, of course he had, everyone on the planet had... he just hadn't imagined the scope of their plan; or the sheer technology involved in doing something so momentous as hollowing out a planet.

"This is insane, how the hell are we supposed to fight this?" the 'Green' croaked and Sylar shot him a look, poor kid looked barely old enough to shave. But he wasn't wrong, they were outnumbered and most definitely a few hundred years behind in the technology stakes; if not a few thousand. The Earth was nothing more than a resource to these bastards, and humans an infestation, they were hollowing her out for the raw materials at her core, collapsing entire cities when they moved on.

So far he'd only seen the humanoid versions of the bastards, but he knew from the news casts and reports that HQ had shown him that there were things much worse lurking under the ground, helping to carve the planet up into bite size chunks for them to steal.

Sylar crept closer to the edge, taking in the Drop Cages that littered the area, there had to be about 30 that seemed to have made it intact, the other 5 or so looked to have suffered a fate similar to the one theirs almost experienced, had it not been for Claire and her team. Unfortunately the crews of the intact Cages seemed to have fared less well on exiting, bodies littered the area, most hadn't even made it out of the metal before being cut down.

"Poor bastards." The 'Green' muttered crossing himself again. "Reckon it's wrong to envy the dead though?"

Sylar tore his gaze away from the disturbing site and focused on the face of the young man, he snorted half in amusement and half in silent agreement, the poor kid had no idea just how many times he'd thought the same damn thing. A shiver shot through him and his whole body spasmed briefly, the kids hand was on his arm to steady him and he felt a familiar sensation shoot through him. His eyes widened but there was no more time to consider the implications of what just happened, his eyes were drawn once more to Claire as she led her team ruthlessly and efficiently through the debris and rocks, pushing forward; leaving him behind.

The psychic's at HQ had been insistent he join her team willing to risk her wrath so long as he was there. He spared a glance at their crashed cage and shook his head, he had barely helped, granted a few more might have died if he hadn't used his ability to slow the fall, but he doubted Claire would have been amongst them. Surely that hadn't been what the psychic's had been worried about? But there was no doubt they had been worried, terrified even.

Sylar dragged himself away and hurried after her, he attempted to keep his head down and her squad in his peripheral vision. It seemed almost impossible to find the girl she'd been in the warrior she'd become. He hadn't realised, hadn't really wanted to see her like this, to imagine it was possible, but two centuries apart had apparently been enough time for her to change completely. To become something this whole world needed desperately... a hero, an indestructible 600 year old former cheerleader and for some reason they were convinced he would be able to help her. For once in his life he found himself banking on the hero too; he wasn't ready to die just yet.

---*---

Claire held her team back, they had an objective, and it wasn't to save those poor bastards down there that hadn't been quite as fortunate as her landing party. She'd been Subterranean a dozen times, lost hundreds of men in the process, Derek, Brix, Cole and Hosea were the only survivors of those campaigns and she intended to keep it that way. But this time they had to stay down for longer than a few hours, there mission was top secret, straight into the heart of enemy territory.

Failure here simply wasn't an option anymore, the geo surveillance and their remaining working satellites had shown the true extent of the damage these vultures had done to their planet. The entire North American continent and most of the African continent were held up on toothpicks, half of the major cities across the globe had already collapsed under the weight of their own infrastructure; when they had moved on to carve out yet another piece of the earth from under them. That didn't even include the damage the sinking land masses had done to the ocean, or the land that had been flooded as a result. They didn't even have a clue how many people they'd lost, how many lives had simply winked out of existence, how many of the 18 billion this overpopulated sardine can of a planet they had left to fight with, or needed to save.

There was no way to repair the damage, they simply didn't have the technology, hell they couldn't even get off world, the moon colony had been fledgling anyway, with barely a few 100,000 on it, any shuttles or craft leaving since _they_ had appeared had been blown out of the sky. All military satellites had been destroyed; the human race was defenceless, blind and utterly trapped on an Earth that was quite literally collapsing under them.

No what they needed was technology, specifically the anti-gravity devices _they_ used to support the infrastructure of the vast caverns whilst they were stripping the minerals. And if they got really lucky, get their hands on one of their spacecraft, or at least the propulsion system and their defences... she wasn't picky.

Unfortunately that meant that everyone else was expendable, every other team was merely a distraction for hers, the 'Greens' nothing more than canon fodder and shields at best. It was a harsh world, one that was shrinking all the time, and she was determined to save it. Whatever the cost.

"Captain." She waved Derek over, he obliged ducking down beside her as she pointed to the vehicles she'd spied, they weren't too heavily guarded, and the other drop cages and their unfortunate occupants were doing the trick, having drawn the focus entirely.

"Looks doable." He agreed.

"You think you can get one to work?"

"Don't know until I try. I mean we know their tech shares a basic structure with ours, just waaaaay more advanced. I might be able to speak to it." He admitted and she grit her teeth, this was far from a sure bet and she wasn't fond of those. If they'd had more chance to prepare, picked a smaller less well fortified target, maybe one of their sky sites, or even the unmanned attack vessels? But a mission had reported back about this cavern, that _they_ were about to move on having stripped it almost bare. This cavern was one of the last supporting structures holding up what was left of Eastern Europe and Asia, the last refuge for humanity, well that and Antarctica but that place was a death sentence, there simply was no option; they had to take the chance.

"Boss there's an awful lot of _if's_ in this plan." Brix joined them, gripping his rifle to his chest.

"I know." She replied, regretting volunteering her team for this, but then, who else was there. Her team had the most _'specials' _ in it, they were the longest serving, had the best record, no one else could have done it.

Then there was her.

Her stomach clenched unpleasantly, HQ hadn't held back, they'd told her what the Psych's had seen, the reason Sylar was here. Glancing once more over the rock ledge they were using for cover she stared at the aliens. They had no name for them, there had been no dialogue opened between their species, nothing but the bombs the fires, and the energy blasts that had levelled entire cities in minutes, before the real invasion had begun from beneath.

Claire had seen them a thousand times, been amongst the first to drag one of their sorry corpses back to HQ with her to be studied. They were mostly humanoid, she knew that, their bodies were larger, stronger, muscle dense using it instead of fat to protect their internal organs. But their brains were where their species differed the most, that and their neurology, they seemed to have two brains, one cognitive, the other some kind of hind brain somewhere in their spine, but even that seemed to vary amongst them, almost like there were subpopulations. The scientists had compared them more to humanoid like insects rather than anything mammalian. Sadly if they were hive like with a Queen there was no evidence of it, and if there was then she wasn't stupid enough to put down on planet Earth whilst they were at war. Well she said war, it was more like strip mining and pest control on their parts.

The scientists had named them Homo-Arthropoda Barata, the marines had their own name, _'Cockroaches'_ which was essentially the same thing_. _

But now there seemed to be a fresh horror just for her, apparently they had taken an interest in her above and beyond simple extermination. It seemed that when they were done pillaging the Earth for its resources they intended to start on their biological resources.

Starting with the human races own cockroach.

Or so the Psychic's told her, she got the impression they may have held back on some of the details of what they had seen in her future, for which she was oddly grateful. Claire supposed it was just the price she had to pay for sticking her head one too many times into their caves and not getting it blown off; it was bound to attract attention eventually.

The question was, had the flunkies downstairs gotten the message to capture not kill? HQ believed there was some sort of extra-sensory communication between them. She didn't like the idea of a hive mind, she'd seen no evidence for it, but she'd admit they certainly seemed to flock to one another when they needed help, or backup.

"What's your plan?" Sylar's voice surprised her; she wasn't used to having him around.

"Bait." Claire muttered and he gave her a sharp look.

"HQ's psych's warned me that they might be looking to start taking prisoners." She admitted, Derek's hand wrapped around bicep and she shared his sentiment.

"They want you?" Sylar hissed looking genuinely unnerved by the idea. Derek's grip tightened and her team's expressions seemed to darken as one.

"HQ seems to think so." She brushed a braid of hair out of her eyes that the crash had knocked loose.

"HQ have been wrong before." Derek pointed out. "Frequently in fact."

"I'm not sure about this time. I have noticed recently it seemed like they were firing something more like stunners my way; there was even that weird energy bind thing a couple of months ago, that Cole had to cut me in half too free me from." The looks she got grew steadily darker and she met them evenly, most of the surviving 'Greens' had the good sense to look away, her team didn't. Eleven sets of eyes scoured every inch of her as if looking for a hidden joke.

Sylar's hand grasped her by the front of her armour, dragging her inches from him. "And you didn't think to mention that?" he snarled and her patience snapped she brought her hands up and with a fast brutal move snapped the wrist that held her and shoved him away. He couldn't dominate her anymore like he used to, no matter what he believed. Sylar rubbed his wrist, sliding the joint back into place with a pained grunt, his eyebrows knit together with the anger he no doubt felt at her manhandling him, but the concern didn't leave his dark eyes.

She sighed irritated and weary all at once. "I doubt it's just me, way I understood it they seem to becoming more interested in _'specials' _in general. I'm just a little more high profile than most."

"What the hell do they want with you...?" Brix blanched, "Us."Claire gave him a dark look and turned greener than she'd ever seen him, his mind apparently going to the bad place.

"Don't dwell on it, I'm today's bait." Derek's fist wrapped around her bicep again, she didn't snap his wrist, which Sylar seemed to notice with a tightened expression. Claire spared her Captain a glance, she understood what he wanted to say, to offer, but this time round, _he_ was the one the team needed.

"Let me." Cole cut across everyone gruffly, Claire turned to look at the large marine, he rarely spoke and when he decided to, she usually found it paid to listen.

"This isn't a democracy!" Claire snapped, wrenching free of Derek's grasp and shoving past them to work out the best path down. "You have a job to do, all of you. Go do it!"

"Commander." One of the 'Greens' began, he was giving her that puppy dog expression the young ones always did when they first got a good look at her blonde locks and barely legal body. There was no time for this, she grasped him by the wrist and twisted his arm until he was on his knees trying not to scream as she threatened to tear it off.

"Look at me like that again soldier and you'll be fighting with one arm and no testicles." She applied pressure and tears welled in his eyes until his lip began bleeding with his determination not to cry out, no one intervened. "Am I clear?"

"Yes Commander." She dropped him shoving him away from her.

"Remember who you're talking to." She snarled and planted her feet, there really was no time like the present, she bit down on the cry of exhilaration she always felt as she leapt over the slight cliff and plummeted through the air; aiming for the centre of a tightly packed group of the alien bastards.


	5. Power Outage

**Chapter 5: Power Outage**

"Fuck." Derek swore, darting around the cover of the boulders and making the longer winding way down, the rest of the squad fell in behind him, as they all tried to ignore the sound of a body colliding with the ground and the subsequent gunfire below. But he had to look, he'd seen her broken so many times, snapped clean in half, with her guts hanging out and god knows what else, but he always had to look, he could never quite believe it every time he saw her come back together. They reached the lower level, but there wasn't enough of a distraction, he could see there were six Roaches, she was good but even the Commander had limits, they were on her the moment she landed in a broken heap.

"Cole, take three men, cover her." he didn't need to watch as Cole and his small group detached and backtracked until they had a clean view and began sniping the Roaches. Sylar seemed torn between helping her and staying with the team.

"Can you do anything for her?" Derek snapped at the man, who looked back at him darkly.

Sylar took only a moment, there was a flicker of disdain that crossed his face that Derek didn't miss, no doubt aimed at him. "Of course." Came his snide reply.

"Then go do it!" He shoved him in the chest, hearing the sounds of screeching from below, he hated that sound, it was usually the Roaches victory cry.

"The mission?" Sylar raised an eyebrow at him and he paused momentarily, pissed that this 'Green' had the nerve to call him on strategic decisions, and hating even more that he was right.

"She is the fucking mission! Save her. I'll get the tech." He hated leaving her safety to that man, but as he watched Sylar's feet leave the floor as he leapt over the edge shooting downwards like a bullet, he had to admit, he might at least stand a chance.

---*---

Sylar landed heavily on the back of a Roach, crushing him as he added a little extra force just to ensure his back snapped. He opened his arms wide, unleashing electricity at the nearest standing target, it wasn't like he could hurt Claire. The notion that he was in a pit full of aliens trying to save the woman gave him momentary pause, but it passed when he saw one of them tear a limb off her.

He opened his mouth and screamed, it was an ability he hadn't used in literally hundreds of years, but it seemed that age hadn't diminished the power of it. Apparently the Roaches weren't fond of sound waves at such a high frequency, they dropped Claire, she was already rolling, her leg reforming as she raised a weapon, one of theirs he noted as she blew a hole straight through the chest of the one that was still holding her torn limb.

Something hit him solidly in the side and he crumpled, the shock of it kept the pain at bay, which was a good thing, he glanced down surprised to find that half of his ribcage was missing on the right side. Blood gushed out of his mouth and he watched as several internal organs slid free. Claire was upon him in seconds, dragging him by the arm behind the meagre protection the small rocks that littered the area offered. It took him longer than her to heal, his body hadn't evolved quite like Claire's he would never regenerate with quite the same efficiency or speed, but at least he was healing, and it hurt like hell. He cried out until she shoved a hand in his mouth, he bit down on it and she didn't even flinch as he grit out his pain, feeling internal organs growing and sliding into position.

But the Roaches clearly had gotten some kind of instruction, because they're shots weren't head height when they fired at Claire, they were aiming to disable her, just like she'd said. Claire seemed undeterred by the course of events, the long serrated blade she kept on her back was in her hand, it hummed with some sort of energy and it took him a moment to recognise it as a charged blade, he hadn't thought any of those had survived the 4th World War, apparently Claire had kept hers. She swung it with deadly precision now removing dagger like appendages that attempted to skewer her, unfortunately the damn Roaches had several. He raised his hand, dredging up another ability from his arsenal, as he got unsteadily to his feet, his hands turning blue. Ice raced along the ground, cracking it, no small feat given the sauna they were in so close to the Earth's core. It reached the targets just as Claire leapt into the air, as she realised what he was doing, with the ground quite literally freezing around her. She began to tumble like the gymnast he knew long ago she had been, springing hand over hand, gaining height and speed until she leapt finally into the air, bringing her blade down and decapitating a Roach as she flew over his head, his body collapsed beneath her and she landed on its back, using it as a shield as the ground and the body froze solid beneath her.

But the Roaches were smart, too damn smart. They raised their energy weapons and pointed them at the ground in front of them, melting the ice before it reached them, before redirecting their blasts his way, forcing him to dive out of the way as Claire's blade swung through the air again. The charged blade sliced into one, sending a current charging through the body, cauterising as it cut, the smell of burnt flesh assaulted him as the unfortunate Roach quite literally split in half.

They pinned him down with blasts even as he tried to shove her aside with his mind, but he was preoccupied trying to shield himself with the bodies of fallen Roaches. He watched as the rest surrounded her, gunfire from above took out one with a beautiful shot straight through the head, whilst the remainder of shots seemed to plough into the chest of another. That's when reinforcements arrived, sadly not for them, no less than five more Roaches leapt into the area, scrambling up the walls to reach Cole's snipers. He couldn't see Derek or his team, he had to hope they were having better luck, that they're sacrifice in this pit wasn't going to be for nothing, because he was growing steadily certain that the Roaches orders on Claire might have been 'alive', but 'dead' would do in a pinch.

Claire scream of frustration pierced him like a knife, as a sharp limb burst through her stomach, and another pinned her through the leg, dropping her to the floor. The Roaches didn't remove them, which meant her body wasn't healing as they circled her. Panic flooded him, he couldn't watch her torn apart. A blast took out his legs at the knees and he crumpled to the floor with a scream of agony, he'd felt that one, he was grateful at least that she wouldn't feel whatever they were about to do to her.

Unless he could stop it... his hand rose and he latched onto his telepathy, slashing with as much force as he could muster, at the limbs that held Claire pinned, the Roaches screeched in pain and he continued slashing, keeping the fallen bodies in front of his head and chest, it didn't matter about the rest of him so long as he could keep his head attached to his spine.

His assistance got Claire up, he watched out of the corner of his eye as she wrenched the offending speared talons free of her body and proceeded to beat the living shit out of the closest Roach with it. He would have cheered as she impaled one through the head, but he was a little busy. Shots rang out above, but less frequently now. Reaching upwards with his ability, he wrenched the remaining single Roach from off the rock face and sent it crashing down to the ground where it bounced with a sickening crunch but continued to move, until a bullet from above stilled it.

More Roaches flooded in and he felt true fear... it was relentless. Claire's hands were flashing with almost inhumane speed and skill, her blade arching through the air whilst she fired off shots with the alien weapon in the other. But they had numbers and she was still only human. Sylar watched in horror as a weapon raised to her head, it seemed in slow motion to him he hadn't even realised he was on his feet and moving towards her. The blast went off he saw it travelling through the air, his feet left the ground his hands outstretched and he flew. He crashed into her body sending them both sprawling on the floor.

Sylar's head shot up and he raised his hand to fend off further attack as Claire rolled into an attack pose her weapon already aimed. He stopped blinking, as did Claire beside him. It was like a scene from a movie from years ago... one that you had just paused right in the middle of the full out action shot.

"Sylar... did you just freeze time?" It was such a straightforward simple question from her, despite the quiet chaos around him and yet it floored him.

He cocked an eyebrow getting to his feet and stalking towards the nearest Roach, the one that had fired at Claire's head, the energy blast hung suspended in the air not inches from them. "I..." he was speechless.

"Sylar!" Claire snapped and he realised she was next to him, gripping his wrist as she tried to sort out the scene in front of her.

"It's not one of my abilities." He added dumbly, yet he knew, with perfect understanding that somehow this was his doing; he could feel the nuances of the ability stretching him, like a new muscle had just formed inside his head.

The memory of a shiver and convulsion hit him, that feeling of overwhelming understanding he'd experienced earlier. "One of the 'Greens'."

Claire slid around him and calmly raised her sword and decapitated the frozen form in front of her, the scene remained frozen, but the blade had clearly passed through the spinal column. Claire reached forward and pushed, the head rolled off and dropped to the floor.

She glanced back at him looking thoughtful. "No one in my squad has that ability, not even close. But one of the 'Greens', from his records, he had a knack for escapes, they called him Lucky, he seemed to slip through fire fights unscathed, almost like he could dodge blasts, or see them coming." She laughed, it was so inappropriate a moment, surrounded by alien Roaches, covered in blood, frozen in time that he had to simply stop and stare at her.

"Sylar... you stopped time. Just like Hiro could." Clare was laughing at him now, it was so strange to see the way her lips curled up, and her teeth flashed, he couldn't remember the last time he'd seen her smile like that, at least not with him around.

Sylar's eyebrows rose and he looked afresh at the situation, searching that new muscle in his mind. "The kid up on the ridge, we both got our first look at the fight together... I suppose I empathised with him."

Claire gave him a look and smirked. "War will do that to you, suddenly you find yourself understanding even the dumbest son of a bitch... just because he's on your side."

Sylar grasped her arm by the wrist. "He obviously didn't know how to use what he had, but..."

"But you do." She finished for him; her sharp eyes scanned the area and her an expression half formed on her face, before he followed her gaze to the rest of her team. They were swamped by Roaches, just like he and Claire had been; only they couldn't regrow body parts.

Claire voice was quiet and even. "Sylar, do you know what this means?"

He didn't get the chance to hear what she was going to say, to know what it meant. The power snapped off and his head reeled from the sudden pain, he dropped to his knees, feeling blood pour from his nose. There was an inhuman shriek, he raised his head in time to see talons shred through Claire's armour like tissue paper, her eyes widened in surprise, at the sudden return to time. He reached his hand up, too slowly, as she was yanked back into a mass of them where she was instantly enveloped.

Sylar tried to focus, tried to get to his feet, but his head was spinning, the Roaches were retreating, he collapsed back and watched helplessly as they dragged the furiously struggling shape of Claire with them. Everything seemed to move in slow motion, like he was disconnected, half aware, his hands moved, people shouted, abilities tore from him, as he watched her torn apart, aware that the voice screaming was his own. All he could see were her eyes, boring into his; searing into his memory the terror only he would recognise, that was carved into her face. A blast hit him soundly in the chest and he knew only blackness.

When he opened his eyes, bare minutes seemed to have passed, but everything had changed. Cole was knelt beside him shaking him sharply, Derek and his team were charging towards him, dragging what was unmistakably a functioning mass of metal and reactor with them, which he took to be some kind of engine, but not the vehicle that belonged with it. He snapped out of his daze and crawled to his knees, his eyes rising to the position he'd last seen Claire. There was a blast of heat and air and he refused to turn away, watching in horror as one of their craft shot into the air and straight up into the blackness of the cavern. His mind reeled.

"Claire!" he bellowed as Derek reached him.

"Get after her now!" Derek barked at him as he shoved Brix roughly against Sylar, "Take him with you." Sylar grasped the other marines arm and leapt into the air, not caring in that moment what happened beneath him as Roaches closed in on the survivors. Brix was nothing if not efficient under pressure; he slid an arm around his neck firmly and gripped onto his back as they soared into the air chasing the tail of the alien vessel as it shot up through the earth's crust. Sylar narrowed his eyes to slits, his every focus on the vessel that was steadily getting further out of his reach.

"Faster!" Brix barked, his weapon in hand pointing with uncanny accuracy at what seemed to be the propulsion system. Sylar bit off the comment he wanted to make and pushed with every inch of speed he had. But they were dropping behind as they broke through the Earth's surface and the craft gained speed.

"Drop me!" Brix barked, loosening his grasp. "You need the speed not muscle." The weapon was shoved into his hands, Sylar met the marines eyes and understanding coursed through him from their linked grip, as new strength flooded him, Brix nodded and released his grip, Sylar watched as he fell, flipping in the air to land on his feet on the near demolished surface with almost feline agility, finding himself almost relieved that the marine wasn't dead.

Turning his head back to his quarry Sylar shot upwards, free of his burden, straight into the upper atmosphere, where the ice began to lance up his spine and sting his eyes, his lungs burned with the thin air, but he pushed. He was never one to accept the odds, to simply give in when the going got tough... but as he watched like some pathetic helpless human, the vessel tore through the stratosphere and into space and he had no choice but to stop and let it go.

She was gone.

Sylar fell, straight back to Earth, dropping like a stone the weight of his failure crashing around him. His fear, and confusion, his inability to control a power had cost him everything... everyone that ever meant anything to him. The air rushed past him and he longed for the impact of his body with the Earth, longed for the death he hoped it would bring.


	6. New Day

**A/N: thanks again for the reviews guys and the favourites, much appreciated. Also want to just say YESSSSS! To 'Southern Cross' for their review, was waiting for someone to notice. Yes the original inspiration for this story came from Gears of War 3 (what with underground caves, drop cages and commandos). I was little wary however of putting that in the blurb – thought it might deter some people from reading it. Fab game, and one I thought would fit the direction of this story wonderfully. Enjoy 'cause it's about to take a slightly slower turn for the next few Chapters.**

**Edit: made it a bit clearer/reminder where Sylar got his new ability from.**

**Chapter 6: New Day**

The impact killed him.

For a while.

Sylar opened one groggy eye and stared blankly. The sky was blue.

Not such a strange statement less than 50 years ago, but now... well now, it just wasn't possible.

The Earth's sky was orange, or grey, the sheer amount of rock blasted into the air by the Roaches as they carved out its core had forever altered the atmosphere.

But not today.

Today the sky was blue and he was lying in grass.

Blinking slowly and trying not to look too hard at the evidence of his recent fall to Earth he carefully patted himself down, unsurprised to find that he was intact. And half naked, an unfortunate side effect of the largest piece of him that his body had regenerated from obviously being his shoulders and head... or what had been left of it. He was actually rather annoyed that he hadn't felt the impact, almost like he'd been robbed of a near death he felt he so richly deserved.

But his fall to Earth didn't explain the sky, the grass, and as he turned his head, he blinked just to check his eyes were in fact in his head and working fine. Skyscrapers?

The only metal they ever saw in the sky were the vast alien vessels that reigned down destruction, machinery and Roaches.

Sylar let sharp eyes scan the surrounding area, watching in fascination the people that were moving about, busy with their unimportant lives, not knowing or caring that a man had just quite literally fallen out of the sky, with enough force to almost liquefy him, in their midst's. Nor that he was now lying in the grass looking like some sort of filthy, half naked, crazy person. Sylar hastily grasped the body armour from what was left of what had once been a perfectly good torso and tugged it on hoping that the trees he was pressed behind were hiding him.

But as he stared upwards once more, taking in the sight of the sky, the skyscrapers, the chopper that made its way across above his head, he felt oddly lost. When he focused once more on the now staring passersby he hastily darted further into the trees, apparently a half naked man appearing out of nowhere they could ignore, but a man that looked like some reject from blade runner, trussed up like a tin can they found odd.

With deliberate force Sylar launched himself into the air, he needed to see where the hell he was, and get out of sight. The viewd below him as he rose, gliding over and away from the park were almost too good to be true. Earth, whole, complete and bustling. A living breathing city.

A shudder ran through him accompanied by an odd sense of release, relief and blinding panic. He was in DC, Washington DC, in what was unmistakeably the 21st Century. For one there were still cars, and as he focused on a billboard the release date so handily stamped under the poster for a film he recognised; remembered seeing... Star Trek. The smirk flittered across his face, if he ever got the chance, and if the kid he'd met on that ledge was still alive when...'if' he amended, ever got back, he'd seriously consider thanking him.

Teleportation and time control. It was the one power that had always eluded him, Hiro had died young, died deliberately in fact, to keep his power away from him, and no one since in 600 years had presented anything similar. But as he glanced around at the 21st Century land marks, he condeeded that it might take some getting used to. It seemed a little more complex than most powers, and there was always the chance this ability wasn't as strong as Hiro's version. Certainly his power outage in the cave implied that, like the unexpected jump to the past. There was a sinking feeling in his gut, he hated not being fully in control.

He hit the floor in a back alley beside a busy sidewalk and glanced one last time at the body armour. Focusing on an old power he hadn't been forced to use in some time he let the pain ripple through him as his body contorted and changed taking a new shape. Something more appropriate... something with clothes.

Stalked out of the alley onto the street he was hit with an odd sense of nostalgia. That was before his eyes caught his reflection in a shop window. Nathan Petrelli stared back at him.

He almost snorted at the irony of that, before the stab of irritation and old betrayal flared. It had been almost 700 years, surely he should have been able to shake this wretched man's consciousness loose by now. Yet whenever he was lost, confused, or apparently inexplicably back in the 21st Century he slipped back into Nathan like a bad habit.

Fisting his hands at his sides, he focused, letting his ability ripple over him once more, forcing his face to change. He stared, smoothing his fingers over the light stubble on the cheeks, it wasn't his own face, nor was it Nathan's, more a hybrid, neither yet both, recognisable and somehow not. It was a face he was unfortunately all too familiar with, one he had spend the better part of 100 years wearing as he struggled to overcome his own demons.

Sylar slid onto the road, striding past business men, young girls and guys piled high with shopping bags, talking aimlessly and he felt the smirk rise onto his lips. It was slowly sinking in, as he simply let the idea absorb into him; the notion that he was here... now... and the world wasn't ending. That somewhere, safe and sound, breathing and whole, was Claire, taking her first steps into a new and bigger world, ready to make her mark.

The image rose in his mind and he pushed it away, refusing to remember the last time he'd seen her, refusing to remember the fear he'd seen in her eyes as they'd dragged her away. His eyes closed and he fought the memory, he couldn't face it, not yet. His skin crawled and his heart pounded but the memory receded and he imagined locking it away somewhere deep inside his mind, hiding his shame and failure from the only other person that mattered... himself.

Sylar opened his eyes and glanced again at the big bright blue sky, just being out in the open like this, with no visible shelter, no weapons besides his own, it made him nervous, even knowing there was nothing to fear here. He darted into another alleyway, stepping over the sprawled homeless drunk without a second glance, he was used to stepping over rotten smelling bodies. He glanced once either way, finding the alley empty he launched himself into the air once more and closed his eyes at the sensation of it against his skin as he shot into the lower atmosphere. His body twisted into the natural position of cautious alertness he was used to assuming when flying, before he forced it to relax, opening his arms wide and simply enjoying the sun that beat down on his back and the cool air that rushed past him. Looking inwards to that place that was all _her, _he focused on that sensation, he'd had this ability for so long, yet he refused to evolve it to find anyone else. It was almost as if he couldn't bare too lose that feeling of her, somewhere inside his mind, in his stomach, that knowledge of who and where she was. Claire shone inside of him like a beacon drawing him in, and his body answered, swinging sharply right.

He landed quietly on the roof of one of the buildings of Georgetown University, his eyes surveyed the campus, it was so surreal to him, to know that _she_ was here, now, still so young, eager to learn. He felt the pull and inclined his head, sharp almost hawk like vision narrowing into focus on the door on the building across from him which swung open to emit a steady stream of students. He didn't need his enhanced sight to see her, she seemed to shine like a golden angel and he had to look away, it almost hurt to see her this way; the way he'd tried to forget.

But his hearing pitched in, attuning to her voice as only he could.

"I don't know, I'm supposed to be meeting my father tonight, he's taking me out for Italian." It didn't matter what she said, just hearing her voice again had him rooted to the spot, he couldn't even focus on what her companion's were saying, they were inconsequential.

"I know, but it's been a while since I've seen him, he just sounded like he needed to talk. We can see the movie another night. Besides don't you have a test to study for?" Figures, he felt the growl rise in his throat, she was planning on meeting Nathan tonight.

Sylar remembered that meeting, thanks to yet another of his relentless, much regretted abilities. He saw her as she'd entered the restaurant in her soft dress in his mind's eye, watched as heads had turned her way, saw afresh the lust that had darkened more than a few eyes. He'd risen enveloping her in his arms and disappointing them when he held on just that little bit too long for it to be simply friendly. He'd cradled her face in his large perfectly manicured hands, dropping a kiss onto her forehead and pulled out her chair for her to sit in. That night had been just another night for him, another night where he'd fought with himself, with the memory of a dead man; as she had sat their oblivious to the effect she had on them both.

"Shhh." Her slightly frantic voice hissed and his eyes snapped open to her face again as she grasped her friends arm, urging her to be silent against words he had missed. "I don't want the whole campus to know he's my father for God sakes." She added stalking away from her exasperated looking friend, who apologised and linked their arms again, falling into step with her. He leapt to the next building, stalking her from above, clear across campus, not needing to be any closer when he could see and hear her fine from here.

When they headed for the canteen he slipped down and caught his reflection one last time in the glass doors, subtly he shifted, his chest expanded his arms widened, the faint lines receded until he resembled some young, toned handsome version of the mask he'd worn for so long. He stalked in behind them, ignoring the glances his face bought him, perhaps he shouldn't have given himself such shocking blue eyes with his dark Italian colouring, but then he wanted _her_ to notice him, without seeing either the monster or the father; yet unwilling to lose himself completely again. He kept a discreet distance as she slid into a table with her food, he chose one to the right of her a single table away and kept his eyes on her back. It didn't take long, her overeager friend urged her to look at the hot guy that hadn't stopped staring at her since he'd come in. Sylar could almost hear the way her eyes rolled and she muttered 'not interested', much to her friends disbelief. Ten minutes later of almost constant badgering she turned her head. The moment her eyes locked on his he felt the images wash over him in startling detail, still so fresh and painful.

_She was pinned, skewered by their talons, he could almost see the venom pumping into her as he watched it mottle her skin only to clear, and start all over again. More of them appeared and his hands flashed his mouth slack, he hadn't even been aware he'd fought as he sent his abilities into a line of them, weapons were bursting all around him, there were shouts, cries, desperation hung in the air. This wasn't like the other times, wasn't a simple mission. But he wasn't moving, wasn't getting up, the others were beside him, charging towards her. Her eyes snapped up in warning, 'keep back!' But they didn't listen, he bellowed, more a cry of frustration and rage than any real attempt to damage them, the sound waves crashed into their hard bodies, causing them to screech._

_They flailed; he failed. And she was torn apart, her body literally tossed into a seething mass of them. But this time was different, this time they wanted something different. Her torso began to sprout new limbs, new parts; her neck arched until she was staring back at him; at them, from her prone position... helpless. She wasn't supposed to be afraid, it wasn't who she was anymore. Roars of primal fury erupted around him, the weapons went off and those beside him charged forwards hopelessly, he saw that now. But his eyes remained on her as her body became whole once more and they circled, closing in, but the killing blow never came; it wasn't what they were there for. He was motionless, frozen as they enveloped her, her eyes pleaded with him to do something... anything. But he couldn't move, refused to believe it was happening. _

_That final image of her was the woman he had come to know, the one that couldn't be touched, couldn't be harmed, the soldier... the tear that slid free of eyes that had long forgotten how to cry was not. Her resolute expression as she disappeared into the vessel seemed imprinted onto the back of his eyeballs. He had welcomed the blackness of the blast that tore apart his chest and pitched him into blackness._

He couldn't have saved her, no one could, it didn't make the idea any easier, that for all of his power he was as helpless as any other human being against them.

They had taken everything from him, his power, that sense that he was invincible, special. The world was dying, dead... the family he'd tried to create, the man he'd tried to be, nothing mattered. Then there was Claire, it was like the final piece of a broken puzzle; without her his life meant nothing, he had no link to humanity, no link to the past, to the man or the monster. Without Claire he was nothing.

Claire's eyes widened and he snapped out of the memory, absorbing the subtle differences of a face that could never change, and he found that somehow it had. This Claire was soft, fragile still; innocent in her own way. This Claire had never seen the world end, never been burdened with saving it. Sylar slid out of the uncomfortable plastic seat and crossed to tower over her tiny seated form as she craned her neck up to him. Her eyes flickered briefly across him, he didn't miss it and suppressed the smirk; he always knew her type, but he saw no dark recognition there.

"Hi." He grinned full of perfect white teeth down at her, adding a coyness he would never feel to the expression that softened her eyes and her mouth quirked fractionally at the corner. "I'm Ethan, I don't... well I'm trying to avoid lines, so I'm just going to ask if I can join you?" he pointed to the empty seat beside her and grinned hopefully, brushing the dark bang of hair out of his eyes in a gesture he knew would pull at her heart strings.

"Have a seat." Her friend pushed the chair out for him and he hesitated, waiting for her permission. She smiled finally, it reached her eyes and she shifted her tray over making room for him, it was a small gesture, but it was a start, after all, he had time.


	7. Building Bridges

**Chapter 7: Building Bridges**

It was an unusual situation for Sylar, he wasn't used to Claire being so compliant, for her to actually enjoy his company, at least not at this point in her life, not that he was ever sure she had, but she had stopped trying to kill him, eventually, though he suspected it had been because she had more pressing issues than him.

Claire's fingers brushed his drawing him back to the present, she was looking up at him a half curious smile on her face. "Where'd you go?" she pressed lightly, which given as he'd clearly been ignoring her, she was perfectly entitled to be more irritated with him than she appeared.

"Oh, sorry. Was just remembering something." He admitted, he found it easier if he never overtly lied to her, she'd become quite astute at spotting those, something she'd only get better at he mused. Particularly with the great big lie her family were currently keeping from her.

"Something good?" she asked looking down at her shirt to pick a piece of fluff off it, and shrewdly avoid his eyes when she gently probed for personal information.

"Yes and no." Sylar sighed, reaching out a hand that was smaller, more dextrous than his own, and brushing the hair out of her face so that he could see her profile. She glanced up at him from beneath dark eyelashes, a simple flash of green that made his breath catch. "You remind me of someone I lost." He admitted and her face fell slightly, his fingers tucked the strand behind her ear and he leant forwards fractionally. "I loved her so much, only I never realised it, until she was gone." He examined her face, feeling her soft hand slide across his and he squeezed lightly accepting the gesture, surprised that it actually comforted him.

"She died?" Claire asked gently, her eyes open and honest.

"I don't know." He admitted. "Kidnapped." He added, knowing it was unwise, his back story was shaky at best, even with all the additions he'd made and secure files he'd hacked to give himself a history, and a place at the college.

"I'm sorry." She told him honestly.

"It was some time ago now." He shrugged, as if that somehow made it hurt less, it was still fresh in his mind despite being 100's of years away, and he couldn't imagine it ever easing.

"I'm not exactly taking psychology as my major, but I'd have thought hanging out with me probably isn't good therapy then, if I remind you of her?" she pointed out and he gave her a sad smile.

"Like I said, I never realised how I felt about her." she was still, relaxed, he leant closer until his mouth was inches away from hers. "I won't make that mistake again." He whispered, feeling her hair brushing his cheek as it blew in the wind. Her lips found his first and he held onto the moan of utter release he felt when the soft skin met his, hesitant yet somehow assured. He'd kissed _his _Claire exactly once, and she had made him pay for every second of contact he'd made, for years after. His hands rose until he was cradling her face, drawing her closer and attempting to keep it somehow casual, to keep up the charade of new love interest. The poor helpless sap he was supposed to be playing wouldn't push too far, nor would he attempt to devour her utterly as if he'd spent over half a millennia lusting after her. So with great regret Sylar pulled back gently, pressing soft kisses to her lips, savouring the taste of her when it wasn't tinged with blood.

When he pulled away he was pleased to find her eyes were fluttering open, and that soft half smile was creeping onto her lips. He could kiss, he knew that, of course he did, he knew just how to kiss a woman to make her knees weak, all part of his original gift, he just usually didn't bother using it. He smirked at her, stroking his hand down her arm and looking away to hide the deeper emotions he didn't want to reveal just yet.

She surprised him, her hand found his cheek, brushing the light stubble, he just didn't seem able to keep off his face, irrespective of who's face he was wearing. He obligingly let her draw his head back around and she knelt up, moving closer until she was so close that sliding his hands around her waist seemed like the only option. Her chest pressed close against him and he captured her parted lips, watching her face as her eyes closed, patient as always he waited until her hand slid up to caress the back of his head, whilst her other gripped onto his bicep. When her mouth parted she gently touched her tongue to his, and he was unable to prevent the moan that escaped into her mouth as he sunk into her slight form. Curling his arms tighter around her until she slid into his lap. It didn't matter to him that they were in a public park, or that it was a fairly cool autumn day to be lounging under overcast grey skies, nothing mattered but the feel of her, the taste.

Perhaps she was starving for affection, he prided himself on knowing Claire inside and out this Claire at least, but understanding her was a different matter entirely. But she was responding to him now, a man she'd known barely a month, had hardly touched save a few gentle brushed of arm against arm, or leg. But there had always been something between them, even disguised as he was, he knew she felt it, the connection, like he was her other half, a part she didn't even know she was missing.

Panting slightly she pulled away, the movement caused a reaction that was already fledgling in his groin and she stilled, staring quietly at him, her fingers playing with the light dusting of hairs across the back of his neck.

"I feel so comfortable with you." she told him softly, lowering her eyes from his to follow the movement of her other hand as it traced across his flat toned stomach, tracing the contours of muscles that were more defined than his own. "It almost feels like I've known you for so much longer than this." she glanced up at him wincing. "And yes I know how that sounds."

He smirked, stroking his thumb across her lips and delighting in the way her eyes closed briefly at such a simple touch. She pressed a kiss to the thumb and wrapped her arms around his waist, lowering her head to the hollow of his throat, he held her close.

"I think it's supposed to be the guys line." He teased lightly, keeping the persona in place, it wouldn't do to have it fall, Claire needed the youthful innocence of someone like Ethan, someone she felt she could shield from her own complicated life... something that was just hers.

Looking back on it, perhaps it was fortuitous what happened that day; at the time he thought it was disaster. The gun shot rang out, he felt warm liquid splash across his face, watched her eyes widen at the sight of it. But he wasn't in pain, it wasn't him... his eyes lowered as screams started, the shots continued, he dropped to the ground, instinctively as years of war had taught him. He rolled until she was pinned beneath him, her bleeding indestructible body covered by his own despite her sudden protests and attempts to shift him. Her arms went around him as if she was trying to press him closer, to somehow gift him with her ability as the shots rang out. He raised his head, staring straight into the barrel of a gun, a young man, half wild his pupils so black that he was surely on something was grinning manically down at him, half a dozen bodies in the almost empty park bled on the ground behind him.

There was no option, nothing for it. He chose to act, in a split second he chose how, his hand snapped up and flew out and slammed into the young killers crotch, something crunched and he ignored it, wrenching the gun free of suddenly limp hands, he snapped the offending wrist that still held it like a toothpick, and rolled to his feet. Delivering a blow to the chest that skidded the young man several feet along the ground. Strength was something Claire would never associate with Sylar, something she would appreciate, envy even... he hoped.

He turned to look down at her, his eyes wide and nervous, she was staring not at him, but at the gun in his hand, or rather what was left of it, he glanced down and noticed that he'd crushed it in his anger, apparently still not used to the subtleties of controlling Brix's ability. Now the metal resembled nothing more than a twisted mess. His eyes shot back to her nervous ones, blood stained her abdomen and he ducked down, knowing she was fine, but playing the part.

"Don't move." He instructed, pressing his palm over her stomach and holding her down firmly. Her hands flew over his.

"I'm fine, honestly, it's not my blood." She lied panic in her voice now. She struggled, as shrieks and cries and the distinct sounds of sirens filled the air.

"I saw you get shot." He pressed, not relenting using his strength to keep her still with minimal effort. "The ambulance will be here in a minute, just stay still." He brushed her hair with his free hand. "I'm sorry, I didn't see him." He shook his head darkly, "I'm sorry." He breathed, dropping a kiss to her forehead.

"Please. I'm fine." Claire insisted, her hand rising to his chin. "Look." She hissed, her eyes darting towards the emerging flashing lights from behind the tree line, they would be here in moments. They both needed to be gone. He narrowed his eyes at her.

"I'm not moving my hand Claire, you'll bleed to death." He snapped at her, letting anger and fear colour his voice.

"Ethan please." She begged. "Trust me, please... I'm different." She whispered. "I saw what you did to him. What you did to the gun." Her eyes glanced to the weapon that he'd tucked into his jacket pocket to hide the evidence. "You know how people can be different... don't you?" she pressed her eyes darting to the ambulance that was steadily moving closer the police hot on its heels. "Please. Ethan I can't be here when they get here." He stilled, staring hard at her, he pursed his lips and removed his hand, in time for her to whip her shirt up and reveal unblemished blood stained skin to him. He stared at the golden expanse of her stomach for a moment, his fingers reached out beyond his control and brushed across, savouring the feel of it, and the wonder that her ability truly was.

"I can heal." She told him. "Please, I have to get out of here." she insisted, still pinned beneath him. He raised his head and met terrified eyes, she wasn't sure of what she'd seen, even now after everything she knew, she wasn't convinced; was terrified of being seen as a freak.

"We need to get out of here." he nodded, agreeing sharply. He grasped her by the arms and placed her on her feet as though she weighed nothing. His hand slid into hers and sparing one glance at the unconscious and bleeding form of the young attacker he pulled her away, their legs pounding as they ran, heading for the safety of the trees and following the rest of the more fortunate people that had fled the scene. He shrugged off his jacket as he ran, stopping only to wrap it around her shoulders, her hands shook with adrenaline as she fumbled the zipper, until her bloodstained clothes were hidden. The blood splashes across his dark shirt were barely noticeable, no one shrieked and pointed as they ran and most importantly no one stopped them. When they were sufficiently far away that they couldn't hear the sirens, he darted into an alleyway and pulled her with him.

Sylar wasted no time, most men would be freaked, even ones with their own abilities, but a young man falling in love with a girl that he'd almost seen killed in front of him would be doubly freaked. He pushed her back against the wall and yanked open the jacket, he lifted her shirt, not waiting for permission and examined her stomach thoroughly, before spinning her around and looking for evidence of the entrance wound on her back. Of course there was nothing.

"I don't understand." He breathed trying to inject panicked honesty into his voice, staring wide eyed at her searching her face for answers he already had. "It doesn't seem possible."

Her hand went into the pocket of the jacket around her and pulled out the gun, holding it out before him and examining it more closely herself, the finger shaped marks in twisted steel evident. "And this is?" she questioned him eyebrow raised, but her voice was low, even, calm, to his panting.

"I..." he hesitated, drawing deeper on memories of other men, other people who's lives he'd never lived, searching for how they would handle this. His memories latched onto those of Alex, seeing him as Claire had. "I've always been, I guess strong, but the last few years..." he took a step away from her, wiping his brow and staring at the blood on his fingers that he wiped away with wide eyes. "I started to feel like superman or something... I thought that maybe, I don't know that maybe it was normal, I'd been working out." He rolled his eyes at his own apparent stupidity. "Only I kept getting stronger and I had so much energy. It felt like I could go forever." He sighed and fell back against the opposite wall and met her understanding expression. "What's wrong with me?" he asked hesitantly. "Am I some sort of freak?" he asked quietly.

"No. We aren't." She replied quietly but determinedly.

"Then what?" he asked letting desperation slide in, "I mean, I had to drop out of sports in high school, I was terrified I'd hurt someone, hell I shake someone's hand and I'm worried they'll pull away a crushed one." He shook his head at her. "That's not normal." He bowed his head, "It's not normal to keep yourself so tightly controlled around the girl you're supposed to share things with, because you're afraid you'll hurt her." Her sharp intake of breath almost drew a satisfied smirk from him, but he kept his expression hidden.

"No it's not." She nodded, taking a hesitant step towards him. "Nor is healing from wounds that should kill you." she added gently sliding her hands along his fisted ones that were clutching his hair. "We're special." She told him carefully and Sylar's borrowed blue eyes snapped up to her face, widening in surprise that she would choose his wording as she bought his hands down to his sides with infinite gentleness. Her fingers brushed up and she had to stand almost on tiptoes to run her hand across his face. "And we're not alone."

"They're are more people... people that can do things?" he asked hesitantly, he slumped, letting his body slip down to the wall until he was sat with his back against it, staring up at her.

"You really have no idea do you?" she breathed, a half smile on her face.

"Should I?" he snapped, after all she was coming across as condescending.

"Don't take it that way," she sighed, and crouched down next to him, "I don't mean it like that." She added, grasping his large hand in both of hers. "It's just so refreshing to meet someone like you who hasn't been touched by all this craziness." She smiled ruefully at him. "I guess you weren't on any lists at all."

He quirked an eyebrow at her. "I'm going to nod and pretend like I know what you're talking about whilst I sit here and let this sink in." He sighed, playing it up. She leant forwards and pressed her lips to his lightly, before drawing back to stare at him.

"Trust me it's a good thing." Sylar nodded, his skin itching to draw her closer, hold her tighter, kiss her again, but he suppressed it. They had time.


	8. Too Easy

**Chapter 8: Too Easy**

It was better than anything he could have planned, his surprise, the snap decisions everything had been so right for her. She'd taken the gun from him, disposed of it, he'd thought perhaps that she'd want space; time to adjust to the fact that her nice 'normal' boyfriend was in fact anything but.

Instead she'd been waiting outside his apartment that very next morning with a cup of coffee and a kiss. The apartment had been much easier to acquire than the papers he'd had to forge and the minds he'd had to convince to let him in as a late entry to Georgetown's sophomore genetics course. But it had been worth it he mused as he let her up.

It had been a month since the park, a month since he'd spilled what she thought was his deep dark secret and she had revealed her own. A month since she'd stopped feeling the need to lie to him. Sylar opened the door and her arms went around his neck, no coffee this morning apparently, but the kiss was at least still there. He wrapped his arms, which were somewhat larger in this form, around her slight waist and lifted her up, saving her neck the effort, why she was always attracted to taller men he had no idea; then again just about everyone was taller than her so maybe that had something to do with it.

"Claire." He rasped in between kisses, "I need." He continued as she didn't let up, "Need to shower." Sylar laughed, genuinely feeling slightly giddy as he dropped her onto her feet with a peck on the lips and spun away, darting into his bathroom. He heard her sigh as he turned the water on and she slid up to the door, which he always left open a crack, half an invitation and half a show trust.

"Ethan, I know we've talked about it before." She called through the crack too him, so that he could hear and he tensed slightly at the false name, and at the nervous tone her voice had taken on. "But my family keeps asking about meeting you. I've told you about them, you know they won't just be asking soon." He listened, hearing her back slump against the wall beside the door, he could almost imagine the way she was standing, her head down, hands twisting the hem of her shirt.

"Look I know you're uneasy, given as what they do, what they've done, especially to people like us. But you're a good man, you wouldn't hurt anyone. They won't lock you away for dating me." Her tone was half teasing now.

"They might." He muttered under his breath, hastily rubbing his slightly longer than normal hair with shampoo. This wasn't a conversation he wanted to have with a door between them, he needed to see her face to be sure he was playing the part right.

"What?" she called, having half heard him and he cursed silently. He couldn't meet her family, not Angela, certainly not Peter, and there was almost no chance of him willingly stepping into a room with her father. Added to the whole meeting himself as Nathan issue, all of which meant that he had to diffuse this quickly. He rinsed and shut off the water, grabbing a towel hastily and wrapping it around his waist he pushed open the door and turned to stare down at her.

He couldn't help but smirk at the way her eyes lingered on his dripping wet chest, or the way she bit her lip and ducked her head to avoid showing him the blush. Still so innocent.

"Claire, you have the most complicated family out of anyone I've ever met." He shook his head as she gave him a final appraising look before deliberately focusing her gaze on his face.

"Damn right I'm uneasy." He continued and she bit her lip again, yet somehow the expression was completely different in this context as she kept her anger in check. "Your adopted Dad is like, what...?" he hesitated, "Super agent?" she looked away.

"Your biological father will probably be running for President any day now." Her eyes remained fixed on his couch but her whole posture was rigid as she listened not correcting him. "Then there's sweet Uncle Pete, who even you admit confuses the hell out of you." Claire's eyes snapped to his and her lips formed a thin line at that one, letting him know he was really close to almost crossing that invisible line.

"And please don't get me started on Grandma, I think I'd rather take my chances with the Wicked Witch of the West than with her." Her face twisted and he registered the spasm of defence there. This was the only sore point between them, he couldn't be too perfect after all, it just wasn't believable. Besides he wasn't sure he could even pretend to like her family.

"Look." She snapped, getting heated as only talking about her family could do. "They mean a lot to me."

"Which is why I'm holding back about them Claire." He snapped right back and she flinched as if stung by his words, and he relented slightly. "I'm sorry." He sighed. "That was cruel."

"No it was honest." She replied quietly, but the fight seemed to drain out of her and he frowned, they could normally shout for hours about this, until she'd storm off and he'd wait for her to calm down before waiting outside her dorm room, flowers in hand the next day; much to her roommates delight.

"They already know everything about you Ethan." She admitted looking ashamed. "They probably have a file this thick," she made a gesture between thumb and index finger. "Trust me they have already looked and if they haven't carted you off by now then they're not likely to any time soon."

Sylar stared hard at her, pleased that at least his rush job of cobbling together a past had worked.

"They just want to meet you." she pleaded, her large green eyes imploring. "I want you to meet them, I want to..." her eyes darted away and he smirked.

"What?" he stepped forward, until he was inches away from her, knowing full well that the sight of his chest was already getting her flustered. "What do you want Claire?" he pressed ducking his head down so that he could breath into her ear. She glanced sidelong at him, he was so close and he was certain the smell of his shower gel was doing funny things to her insides. They'd taken it slowly, partly out of his fear of scaring her off, and partly to keep up the appearance of a super-strong young man terrified of damaging his indestructible girlfriend.

"I want to show you off." She sighed as if she was confessing a great sin, before raising her hand to his jaw so that she could pull him close enough to press a kiss to his stubbled cheek.

"Funny." Sylar laughed lightly the sound deeper than one his own voice could make, as he turned his head so that her lips brushed those instead, "I just want to keep you all to myself." It wasn't a lie, it never had been and the way her lips curled up into a smile almost wiped away the last memory he had of _his _Claire. Almost.

This Claire pulled back at his sudden tenseness, watching him scrutinisingly, apparently hardly caring that his wet chest had soaked through her shirt.

"I should get dressed." He muttered apologetically, "We'll be late for class." He turned away, only to have her small hand catch his wrist and force him to pause. He glanced back at her as she worried her bottom lip.

"It always seems like your pulling away." She moved closer, stopping him, her hand reached out and pressed flat against the skin on his chest. Sylar's eyes closed briefly at the gentle touch, perhaps he was pathetic, maybe he'd gotten so used to having _her_ touch be hard and aggressive, meant to hurt rather than caress. But he shuddered as she swept her hand lower to his tensing stomach muscles, wishing that for once, Claire would touch him like this when he was in his own skin.

Sylar didn't say a word, simply watched with cool appraisal as she dropped her hand to his waist, bringing up her other one to wordlessly pull the loose knot he'd made apart. The towel slid down to puddle at her feet, her green eyes flashed as he stared hard into them, but she didn't look down, and neither of them moved.

He stood simply waiting to see if she'd acknowledge the moment, or see if she'd avert her gaze in embarrassment to let him dress. She did neither, her expression half challenge as she remained there, apparently relaxed, waiting for him to make his move.

Something subtle was shifting in the air, it was the most overtly sexual move she'd made, the most direct and he didn't want to blow it; he'd waited centuries to have Claire like this, to have her want him, even if she didn't know it yet. Slowly but surely her eyes dropped and he watched as colour dusted her cheeks, before she looked away nervously and he chuckled; glad to see an answering smile despite her sudden embarrassment. He lowered his head to her ear, letting his stubble brush her cheek, and enjoying the way her pulse leapt at the touch.

"As much as I like that you came over here to catch me with my pants down." He smirked at the flash off the accusation in her eyes, "If you stand there much longer I'm afraid we won't get to class at all today." He lowered his head that fraction more and sucked deliberately on the sensitive pulse point on her throat, her gasp hardened him almost immediately and he permitted himself the lust of a young college man with his girlfriend, as being excuse enough for why he pressed her back against the wall and let his burgeoning erection press against her hip. She pressed against him and he could feel her pulse quicken, her breath hitched sharply as she arched against him and her hands slid lower down his bare back.

Sylar pulled away, his eyes were so dark with lust he forgave the way she stared at him for a moment as though concerned, before a seductive little smile crept across her lips, she knew exactly what she did to him, even relatively innocent as she was.

"You're killing me." He breathed lightly, before very deliberately pulling away from her with a groan and stalking into his bedroom, where he grasped the closest pair of boxers and tugged them on, noting that they hardly did a thing to restrain his now solid member.

"You can't go in like that." She smirked having followed him, and he narrowed his eyes at her.

"Oh?" he teased, half curious as to what she was thinking, certainly her behaviour was more aggressive than he was expecting, particularly given her previous sexual experience; which of course he wasn't supposed to know about, except for what she'd told him as _'Ethan'_.

Claire was nervous, he could see it in the way she held herself when she walked across the room, but she was determined, the set of her jaw also told him that much. She stopped inches from him, meeting his eyes. She didn't ask, and nor did he, she merely took that one step closer and her hand brushed across his groin. He bucked in surprise at the strong deliberate touch and she bit her lip in response, sliding her hand beneath his boxers to grasp him firmly, her soft skin against his heated, sensitive flesh forced a groan of pure need from him.

"Claire." He breathed, that word like a prayer to him as her fingers curled around him and she stroked. He'd taken it slowly, perhaps too slowly if her actions were anything to go by, he'd brushed across her breasts maybe a handful of times when they were both fully clothed, but on the clothes petting was all he'd offered. Now as she crashed her lips against his and he struggled to remain upright with her fingers making his balls so tight he feared for their circulation, he couldn't help but imagine what it would have been like to have had her this way for all those years.

Sylar thrust with his young hard body against her, letting her draw every strangled sound she deserved from his throat. Her second hand dropped and massaged his aching balls with surprising delicacy for her, but then he had to remember this wasn't _his_ Claire, this Claire was still supposed to be delicate. The thought of _her,_ with her hard green eyes and sharp tongue, clad in black and reigning destruction and adoration with every measured step, was enough to tip him over the edge. He shuddered violently emptying himself into Claire's hand with a guttural sound that had him falling back against the wardrobe, looking for support for his suddenly rubbery legs. It had been so long...

Claire was staring up at him half unsure, half incredibly turned on. Sylar grasped her face and kissed her soundly, trying to convey just how much it had meant that she would offer him that. After all he knew her history, both as Ethan and as Sylar, she'd confessed to him that her near rape had stalled her progress with the opposite sex some, as had her rather un-normal life.

"I love you." he confessed, he hadn't meant to say it now, with his pants down, his flaccid dripping cock between them, but he couldn't keep it back any longer. She dropped her eyes, to his chest and worried her bottom lip. He caught her chin. "I wanted to tell you that day in the park." He added sharply before closing his eyes tightly with irritation, he wouldn't lie, not now, not with this, for this moment he'd be himself.

"That's a lie." He shook his head opening his eyes and bringing his face inches from hers so that he could see every nuance of emotion from her, "I wanted to tell you the moment I first saw you coming out of class." It was the most he could offer _this_ Claire, he couldn't tell her how he had waited for her for centuries, how his lust and his obsession with her had freed him from Nathan's memory.

How even now with all the years that had passed his feelings were undimmed, how every meeting between them was seared into his consciousness, like blazing moments of clarity amongst the haze. He longed to hold her, press her to the wall further and slide inside of her; knew that he'd find only heaven in her embrace. To hold her face and tell her that no one would ever love her like he could. The images of that fateful day flashed in his mind and he closed his eyes fiercely against the assault.

No one could fail her like him.

He opened his eyes to find her wide, slightly fearful ones on him. Her mouth opened and he pressed a kiss to her lips silencing her words. "Don't." He breathed, not able to bear to hear her say it, not yet, not with the memory of his failure so fresh in his mind. He pulled away at her light insistent push against his chest. "Just don't."

He sighed, "Say it when you're ready, not because you think it's what I want to hear." Her expression softened and she pressed a kiss to his chin, "Say it when you feel it Claire." She nodded and he released her from his arms.

"I love you." she told him quietly before slipping into his bathroom and closing the door between them.

Sylar stilled, bowing his head and trying to feel how he knew he should with her admission. But it wouldn't come, all he felt was regret. He hadn't wanted to hear it now, but then Claire had never done anything because he'd wanted it. It was half the reason he loved her, or would love her.

---*---

He'd taken her to dinner that night, a nice family run Italian restaurant that he knew from his memories of Nathan. She'd been nervous, had been a little all day, quiet, perhaps regretting her actions, it had been out of character for her, at least for _this _Claire. Sylar had caught her glancing at him every now and again, nervously, no doubt afraid that maybe she'd pushed too fast, made herself look like she was easy in some way, that maybe even he'd assume more from her now. That maybe her admission had been too much for them. Each thought he could read on her face as plainly as if she'd spoken them aloud.

"I've got one of those deep and meaningful sort of questions for you." He decided warily, genuinely curious as to her response and half to distract her from her current line of thought.

Claire's lips quirked up at the corners. "Oh?" but her eyes were still light, he was oddly proud of himself that she trusted 'Ethan' like that. "And I thought tonight was going to be light conversation." She was teasing, her hand brushed his just so he was clear.

"I've been thinking about abilities." Her eyes widened fractionally and she looked down at her plate. He'd been quite careful until now to not mention them other than in passing. To not seem too eager, too earnest, too damn interested. "About some of them anyway," he laughed lightly and the tension seemed to leave her shoulders as she glanced around, realising the restaurant was almost empty. "It's hard to imagine really. Guess I'm still getting used to it."

She smiled ruefully. "Yes well some of us have slightly more disturbing abilities." She snapped, placing her knife and fork down with a little more force than was strictly necessary, "Sorry." She muttered finally off his silence at her sharp tone. "I'm just jealous I think. I never had the luxury of time to get used to what I could do. I just sort of had to figure it out, fast."

Sylar reached out and grasped her hand, "Then I guess it's just another thing to add to my list of great reasons to have met you." It was saccharine and hurt his teeth, but Claire, innocent as she was beamed at him. He decided to steer the conversation more directly. "You've got to admit though some abilities would tempt even a Saint."

Claire paused and went unnaturally still. "Oh?" It was so subtle, the pressure he felt across their joined hands, the slight tremor to her voice. Her experiences with the Level 5's and no doubt himself had clearly left their mark no matter how well she hid it. She was afraid of what people with abilities would and could do to the world if they made the wrong choice.

"Well that kid you told me about that can control machines." He chuckled, "Remind me to take him to Vegas when he's old enough." She gave him a nervous smile, but refrained from commenting. "Or how about that time travelling Japanese guy?"

Claire's face furrowed into a slight frown. "Well fortunately Hiro is a sweet guy, he just wants to help. I don't think it would even cross his mind to use his ability in that way." There was just an edge of warning to her voice now. He'd need to tread carefully, fully aware that whilst she would always have a teenagers hormones, she had at least learnt to overrule them when it suited her, just not at this early stage of her life.

"Still, it does get you thinking. I mean imagine the temptation of a power like that! Are you telling me you wouldn't be tempted?"

"Tempted to what?" she pressed, her lips pressed into a hard line, clearly telling him to drop this line of conversation.

"Change history I guess." Sylar shrugged nonchalantly. "Or at least try to, just think about all the wars, all the death's that could be prevented." She removed her hand from under his and placed it on her lap, staring hard at him. "Oh don't tell me you haven't thought about it?" he balked not buying her innocent, offended act one bit. "Or wondered why Hiro doesn't do something like that?" he scoffed, not going to be cowed by the look she was levelling at him; at least not until she'd perfected it in 600 years time.

"I think there's a reason certain people are given certain abilities." She mused finally, but the tension in her voice was evident, she didn't like talking about things like this. "Maybe because they're the only people that can make the right choices with them. Or at least understand how those choices might affect the world."

Sylar cocked his head. "So by that logic, that psychopath... Sylar?" he feigned checking he had the name right and was pleased to see the way her eyes darkened at just the mere mention. Those conversations had been awkward for them both. "Then he was given the ability to steal other people's abilities, by killing them, for a reason?"

"Sylar had a choice. He made the wrong one." Claire snapped. "Or was pushed into making it." She conceded quietly and he froze, unable to believe the words had come out of her mouth. "And I think the reason he was quite as crazy as he was, was because he knew it was the wrong choice."

Sylar was oddly speechless, just trying to absorb the idea that Claire had spent time, and apparently a fair amount, psychoanalysing him, and oddly enough coming up with a somewhat sympathetic view. He would have pressed the issue but he sensed that it would descend into a full blown row.

"But you're not denying that you wouldn't try and use an ability like time travel in that way?" he pressed, ignoring the surprised look on her face that he was really pushing her down this route.

"In my opinion," she sighed resigned to this line of questioning. "It wouldn't make any difference anyway."

"How so?" he pressed suppressing his eagerness and trying to disguise it as mere curiosity.

"Because I refuse to believe that one person, even if they had the right to alter human history like that, could really have the power." Claire met his eyes firmly and he smirked slumping back in his seat to take her in fully, he had no idea this younger version could be so interesting.

"Well that's certainly a pessimistic way of looking at it."

She shrugged. "I just think that some things are just meant to happen, that no matter what we do, they'd happen anyway." Exactly his thoughts.

"So you wouldn't try to stop wars?" Sylar pressed one last time, fishing for... for what permission? Permission to be ignoring the plight of his own species, at the end of the world?

Claire was looking at him shrewdly now. "Of course I'd try." She snapped, "Because that's just human nature. We always try, always think we know best. I'd try because I had to, I wouldn't be able to live with myself if I didn't. Even if I was wrong, even if I failed. I'd try." Claire crossed her arms and looked away, and he wasn't foolish enough to press again, even if he was stung by the words.

Outwardly he kept his expression serious but pleased, as he reached out and grasped her hand. "Good." He told her with quiet intensity, not feeling in the least bit pleased at her judgement of his current actions, whether she was aware she'd done it or not. "Just wanted to be sure we were on the same page."

Claire rolled her eyes at him. "Fine. But no more morality debates over dinner, it gets me mad at my food."

He kissed her soundly that night, showing her he meant every word the confession he'd made earlier, and soundly ignoring the nagging doubt that perhaps he should be doing something else with his ability instead of stealing moments with her; however hopeless the chances were.

He left her fully clothed and only slightly dishevelled at the doorstep of her dorm room. "Goodnight." He smiled, turning on his heel and leaving. Putting her mind at ease that he wasn't just in this for the sex, after all, he knew better than anyone, there was nothing _easy_ about Claire.

"Claire?" he called her back and she turned hesitant. "If you want..." He shrugged, scuffing his shoe in the gravel on the floor outside her dorm building; not sure why he was genuinely nervous. "Well I thought maybe I could come with you this weekend when you visit your mother."

She smirked and for just a fleeting second he saw the woman he knew in the girl. "Is that a compromise?" Apparently their somewhat charged conversation this morning and throughout dinner was forgiven.

He smirked back. "Well as far as I know, she's never locked anyone up and experimented on them. I thought maybe I'd try my luck with her first."

Claire walked back over to him and slid her arms around his waist, dropping her head to his chest. Sylar pressed a kiss to her hair. It was almost too easy like this. So long as it wasn't his real face between them, it seemed Claire found nothing disagreeable about him. The worst part of all this was the knowledge that he'd had the ability to be anyone for centuries, could have made her love him a thousand times, yet somehow it had honestly never occurred to him to try quite like this before.

But there was that thing inside of his mind that he assumed might once have been a fully operating conscience, it usually had Nathan's voice, that reminded him it was the challenge that had always drawn him to Claire, whether for her ability, or simply for her. That what he was doing was too easy.

As he kissed her soundly, trying to simply revel in the feeling of her lips, he allowed himself the simple truth, that it wasn't quite right, wasn't what he wanted, what he needed. That what he wanted was to kiss _his _Claire like this and to have her kiss _Sylar_ back.


	9. True Lies

**Chapter 9: True Lies**

Two hours later his door bell buzzed waking him; Sylar rolled out of bed and landed heavily on the floor, his hands were up cackling with lightening as he groggily remembered that this was the 21st century and it was unlikely people were coming to kill him... unless it was Bennett. He caught sight of himself in the mirror and paused, taking a moment just to run his hand over the familiar features before sliding back into Ethan's similar but different shape. He made his way to the door, only tripping once over furniture in the dark until he reached the intercom.

He pressed the button, swearing to murder the person on the other end if this was a crank call... he smirked, or Noah Bennet. "It's three in the morning." He grumbled into it.

"It's me." His eyebrows rose in surprise and he simply stared at the speaker on the wall. Well it was 'a' Bennet. But that didn't exactly explain what Claire was doing at this time of night outside his apartment, nor did it necessarily bode well.

"Oh." He managed, shaking his head at his own idiocy. "I... did you forget something?" he asked genuinely confused.

"Can you buzz me up? I need to talk to you." He hit the button and let her in as a pit formed in his stomach, he'd blown it with that line of questioning he was sure. But at least he was certain she didn't suspect he was _him; _but this was surely a talk like that could spell the end for 'Ethan'. Sighing he answered the slight knock at the door and met her uneasy eyes, noticing she was still in the dress she'd worn on their date.

"Did I do something wrong?" he asked hesitantly, hating that he genuinely wanted to know.

"Yes." She replied, stepping around him, and into his apartment. He sighed and closed the door before turning to face her. He froze as she pulled the dress from over her head, her long jacket already in a pool at her feet. She stood in front of him, in only her heels and lacy underwear and he felt his jaw go slack.

"I wasn't ready to say goodnight." She told him not able to hide the blush that seemed to have crept not just along her cheeks but onto her chest.

"I?" He was speechless, this wasn't quite what he'd been expecting and certainly not from her... well _his _Claire maybe, but not this one. This wasn't quite how he'd imagined seducing her...

Claire seemed to conquer whatever nagging doubts ate at her at his apparent silence and stepped out of the pile of clothes and towards him. Her arms went around his waist and he shut his mouth abruptly.

"I didn't think...?" He couldn't finish his sentence.

"That's the point." She lifted up on her toes pressing her chest into him, the lace on her bra brushing against the light dusting of hair on his muscular chest. "You never push me, if I want it, I have to take it with you." she brushed her hand across his pecks and down the flat of his abdomen until she brushed the waistband of the boxers he'd been sleeping in. "But I know you want it." She breathed, looking down, her hand brushed the evidence of it once again and he sucked in a sharp breath.

"I thought you were mad at me about the questions?" He gasped, trying to ignore her hand slipping beneath his boxers.

"I was, for about a second. Then you went and did something sweet again." She smiled, lifting up onto her tiptoes to kiss the stubble on his cheek.

He had to be smart, had to be Ethan. Her hands pulled his head down and he was lost in her mouth, in the feel of the skin she had revealed to him. His hands travelled the expanse of her back, with such little effort he pulled her up into his arms, her legs went up around his waist as if they belonged there, without ever losing contact with her mouth he began to move them towards his bedroom.

Sylar lowered his hands to cup her ass and she moaned vocally into his mouth, as her legs tightened their hold around him and her tongue duelled in his mouth. He couldn't help himself, his hand slid down her front until he could rub against her panties. They were wet and he was so stiff he could hardly move at the thought of that. Her mouth moved, until she was nipping at the skin of his jaw and he slid his fingers along her covered folds causing her to arch into him with a half cry of surprise.

"Claire." He whispered as her mouth latched onto his throat, her teeth brushing the skin as she nipped lightly. He pulled her head away, it wouldn't do for her to give him a hickey that would heal over instantly. She didn't whisper his name, for which he was grateful, he wasn't sure he wanted to hear the fake one on her lips when he was like this with her. His shins bumped the bed and he paused, grasping her face and pressing a kiss to her lips. He'd have happily had her anywhere, the bed wasn't necessary, not to him, but 'Ethan' would insist on a bed, 'Ethan' would want this to be special for her... he hated Ethan.

"Be sure." He hissed, between kisses, pitching them forward onto the bed, his arms landed either side, holding his more substantial weight in this body, off her. Her legs still around his waist she leant up to him, kissing the hollow of his throat.

"I'm sure." She replied. Not letting his mouth get another word out, her hands found his crotch shoving down his boxers as she went, but he was already unimaginably hard, he had to stop her; he already knew how good her hands felt, how easy it would be and just how soon it would be over. He pulled them away, pressing a kiss to each palm.

"Touch me." She insisted, arching towards him, he couldn't help but oblige, his hands skimmed along her flat golden stomach and his eyes closed. It felt wrong; he paused at her covered breasts, itching to remove the offending material, to see the expanse of her skin and to know that for once it was for him. But it was lie, she wasn't for him, this was all for 'Ethan', for the perfect illusion he'd given her.

"What is it?" she sounded panicked, a little stung by his apparent rejection. "Ethan...?" she trailed off.

"I can't." He breathed, lowering his head and burying his forehead against the expanse of her stomach.

"I don't understand." She managed, levering up from beneath him and fixing him with a piercing stare that was more hurt than anger right now.

"I don't want to hurt you Claire." He lied quietly, drawing himself up to sit on the edge of the bed, head bowed, the worst thing was he wasn't even sure it was a lie anymore. She was still beside him, and he expected her anger now, for her to shove at him and leave, to simply walk out, or possibly attack him, he knew what _his _Claire would have done. Instead her hand slid up the back of his head and she knelt up beside him.

"You can't hurt me." She breathed, pressing a kiss to his temple. "Oh Ethan." She whispered and he closed his eyes to try and halt the way his whole body shuddered at the other man's name. "I know you're worried, but you won't hurt me, I promise you. I can't feel pain, I've told you." she slipped around until she was once again in his lap, he didn't have the will to stop her. He could only force himself to stop once, barely... having her against him again, it was too much and his will faltered. He wanted _his _Claire, wanted her to see him as Sylar and still want him. But he wanted Claire so badly in any shape, what would it hurt to sate his desperate need now, to take what was being so willingly offered?

"I don't want to break you." he whispered, '_not if I want you to be my Claire again someday'_ he admitted internally.

"I'll heal." She breathed kissing his throat, around to his ear and tugging on the lobe.

"I love you." he closed his eyes, damning himself, because the moment this was over he would have to leave. He wouldn't stop her from becoming what she had to be, the woman the world needed her to be, the woman he needed her to be.

Her hands took his and lifted them onto her breasts, he hadn't even seen her remove the bra. Her hips ground against him and he hissed, she was naked now above him and he was still a man. He grasped her pert breasts brushing the nipples and rolling them between thumb and forefinger until they tightened to taut peaks and she was groaning as she rubbed herself against him. He pulled his hands away and lifted her off his lap, dropping her onto the bed, so he could once more lie pressed over her, letting his hands explore.

"Beautiful." He breathed, brushing his hands across her small firm breasts, and down the hollow between them, he pressed a kiss to her belly button as his hands slid further. Turn about was fair play he decided as he slid a finger along her hot centre, her breath hitched and she gasped as he slipped inside. They groaned in unison at the sensation as he pressed within her tight heat, he lathed her belly button with his tongue and she arched her back, he could sense the name forming on her lips and he raised his head, taking her mouth to stop it from happening. He wouldn't let her say that name again tonight.

Claire groaned as he inserted another finger pressing deeper into her tight, hot, wet centre, he knew she'd feel this way, would still feel this way in his time. It was something sweeter than he deserved, _she'd_ known it, and so had he, but it didn't stop him now. His tongue thrust into her mouth, matching the rhythm of his fingers as he curled them inside of her, drawing ever more desperate sounds from her throat. Her lips lost their purchase and he had to release her letting her gasp chokingly against him as he worked the spot inside her furiously. She came with a mewled cry her legs clamping down on his hand like a vice and her internal muscles fluttering around his coated fingers intensely.

He was certain it was the first orgasm a partner had given her and he savoured that knowledge as he kissed her panting mouth, brushing the slight sheen of sweat off her forehead and grinning wickedly at her. Thousands of men could have her, would, thousands would think they were her first, because he knew, understood even that about her. But it would always be him that claimed her first, even if she didn't know it.

Claire laughed gently up at him, her smile wide and slightly breathless, as he dropped his head, her eyes widened fractionally and he kept the grin on his face, pushing her legs apart and sliding down her until he was in position. Her hand instinctively clutched his head as he pressed his lips to her now slick centre. She bucked sharply and he pressed down on her abdomen, focusing very hard on using only strength and nothing else to restrain her the way he wanted to. But she was a fidget, and he grinned pressing a kiss against her thigh, before he slid his hands along her thighs all the way down her calves to grasp her ankles. In moments he had her legs wrapped around his shoulders, locked at the ankles. He glared up at her, grasping both her wandering hands in one of his own and locking them in place across her stomach.

"Stay still." He barked roughly at her and she bit her lip as his head descended once more. But she was at least behaving, her hips only lifted fractionally and her legs only tightened an inch. His gentle kisses weren't enough though, he had to taste her, to know that she was as sweet as he'd always imagined. His tongue dipped inside, the rough stubble of his cheek rubbing against the sensitive skin. She let out a cry and he was forced to hold her still by her hands across her stomach, she seemed unsure whether she wanted to squirm out of his reach or push him deeper. He chose the latter, raising his other hand to slide a finger inside of her again, matching it with the thrusting of his tongue, he tugged at her hands with his other one, until they were low enough that he could use the thumb of that hand against her sensitive nub.

She was gasping now, straining against him, her hips bucking to his thrusts, but he didn't have the heart to restrain her. _His _Claire he wouldn't have even attempted to try to restrain, so he relented releasing her hands so that he could attack her more thoroughly with both hands. Instantly her hands flew to the back of his head, pressing him deeper. He sucked and nipped, brushing his tongue against every inch of her he could reach. Her hands left his head to clutch her own and she bucked wildly against him.

"Oh God... oh God!" She managed, behind her hands, "I... this is...!" She bit out and he smirked biting down sharply on the sensitive flesh causing her to convulse around him with a strangled cry.

Sylar withdrew, sliding out from her legs and dropping them back onto the bed with a dark look, he had imagined her this way for centuries, but the actual sight of her trembling, flushed with desire and the sheen of sweat he was solely responsible for. He had to sit back on his knees and just look for a moment. When her green eyes opened, searching his he moved. Her hands clutched at him, drawing short nails across his skin across his back and down his chest, she attempted to roll him, her hand sliding along his steadily becoming painful erection. He knew her intention, and as much as he wanted her mouth around him, it had been so long since he'd been with anyone like this, his now dead wife, hadn't let him touch her again after Claire's name had accidentally spilled from his lips.

But as _this_ Claire moaned beneath him urging him on, he realised he would be lucky to survive a single thrust inside of her tight heat, let alone the tease of her soft pouting mouth. He slid up along her body, feeling her nipples hard against him. Her legs parted to allow him access and his hardness brushed against her stomach. He stopped there.

"Tell me this is what you want!" He demanded, pressing a kiss to her collarbone.

"I want this." she didn't even hesitate. "Please." She begged and he couldn't contain the smirk; begging was something he imagined _his _Claire would never do. She writhed beneath him, moving until he slipped further, sliding between her legs. Where he stopped again and raised a hand to stroke across her face and down over her lips.

"You won't hurt me." She promised. "It'll only hurt if you stop now." She added glaring soundly at him and he took that as cue enough to move.

He pushed and her mouth parted in a slight 'Oh', he slid the head inside and felt a momentary stab of panic at just how tight and hot she was. He wasn't small, not as Sylar and certainly not as Ethan, he bit down on his tongue savagely, tasting blood as he thrust sharply, filling her entirely and shredding her virginity. She didn't even whimper in protest; no pain indeed. He stilled more for his own sake than any fear of hurting her now.

"It's fine... it's fine." She panted, "Don't stop." She pleaded.

"Got to babydoll." He breathed pressing a kiss to her and smiling apologetically. "Just give me a sec, so damn perfect in here." he muttered kissing her forehead in a vain plea to get her to stop moving. She did, lying perfectly still beneath him, her fingers lightly dragging nails up and down his spine. He nuzzled her neck whilst his blood pressure returned to normal and gave an experimental thrust rocking his hips against her pliant body. She hissed sharply, and he raised his eyes to hers.

"No, it's good." Claire shook her head, easing his non-existent fears that he'd somehow hurt her. He rocked slowly at first, experimenting with her until he located the spot that forced her eyes to shut and her breath to hiss sharply, when her toes curled it was just a bonus. Her eyes opened and locked on his, he didn't look away as her body met him thrust for thrust, the sound of their skin slapping together was the most beautiful thing he'd ever heard. He grasped her hands, needing to control this moment somehow, to control her, he pinned them with his larger one above her head.

She paused only briefly in her answering movements, but as his loose hand slid over her chest, fondling breasts she forgot all about it. By the time his hand reached down to slide over her clit she was already on the brink, her body stretched taut beneath him, with her head arched back into the pillow. A single pinch of her nub between thumb and finger sent her over, screaming wordless noises and bucking wildly. He almost joined her, almost. Just the sight of her alone would have done it once. But something stronger was coursing through him now. He couldn't let this moment end, couldn't let this be their only moment. He had to see her head thrown back like that once more. He slipped from her with ease and pulled her up by her linked hands. She was still floppy, almost boneless as she fell against his chest, breathing heavily.

"What...?" She trailed off as he turned her, he pulled himself up onto his knees and reached for her, pressing her back until she was on his lap.

"We're not done yet." He whispered, pressing a kiss to her spine, as he guided himself into her entrance from this new position. Her head fell forward and he grasped her hair, pulling her head back onto his shoulder, so he could kiss her as he slid inside of her from behind, pressing her back firmly against his chest as he pierced her virginity afresh. His hands slid around her hips and he began to move her, showing her just what he needed, in moments she needed no guidance, bouncing up and down on him like she belonged there. His hands palmed her breasts, twisting and pawing with almost bruising intensity. He was so deep from this angle and she was so much tighter, it seemed impossible he fit at all. Sylar slid his fingers between her legs, her hand slid over his, guiding him needlessly, he already understood her body better than her. In moments she shattered around him, falling almost limp. He pounded into her, until he felt the tightness snap like a rubber band and he spilled himself in her still quivering heat.

Sylar held her against him, riding out both of their orgasms with harsh breaths and soft caresses. Claire collapsed against him as he softened inside of her, sliding out once more, he released her and she collapsed onto the pillow, giving him a spectacular view of her ass. An ass he'd neglected somewhat... but there was still time for that, he swatted it lightly and fell exhausted beside her.

"I don't know what to say." Claire managed finally, rolling over to stare at him, looking utterly satisfied. He smirked and traced a finger from her nose all the way down to her bellybutton, enjoying the goose bumps it drew on her rapidly cooling skin.

"Wow?" he suggested lightly and she swatted his chest, he chuckled. "It was just a suggestion."

"I didn't know if I'd be able to feel it." She admitted suddenly and he quirked an eyebrow at her in confusion, looking down at his spent but still considerablely well endowed penis. She rolled her eyes and continued. "I meant because of the whole pain thing." She grasped his hand, tracing her fingers across his wrist all the way to his elbow idly. "I wasn't sure how much sensation I had left. Sometimes things just feel far away, my skin doesn't always register things like hot and cold... touch. I guess I was just worried I'd lose this experience too before I'd even had the chance to know what it was supposed to feel like."

Sylar reached over and brushed her lips with his, before pulling her closer to him. He knew she wouldn't lose this feeling, had heard her, seen her with one or more of her many admirers too many times to count, and she had certainly seemed to be enjoying every moment of it. But he couldn't reassure her now, Ethan wouldn't know things like that, couldn't and it would only irritate her for him to give her what she'd consider empty promises.

"Then I guess we'll just have to check as often as possible that you can still feel everything I want to do to you." He rasped lightly smirking as he pressed his lips against her skin.

---*---

She fell asleep in his arms, with the sensation of his fingers tracing patterns across her skin lulling her into relaxing. "I love you." he told her pressing a kiss against her temple. "I always will." he added even quieter

It was perfect, exactly as he'd always imagined, yet it somehow wasn't enough, that feeling from earlier hit him again with almost painful intensity. He wanted her to look down and see him, to know it was Sylar that she was making love to. Wanted to see the acceptance in her eyes. But he would never get that from _this_ Claire, not now, not as himself, they hadn't built enough bridges yet. Then there was always the nagging doubt that this couldn't last forever; that eventually he'd say something, do something, his abilities would flare at the wrong moment and he'd be discovered. He wasn't sure he could bare to have her look at him the way he knew she would, to see her shudder in revulsion... again. Because he remembered that day in the hotel when he'd made his intentions known, his first approach. There'd been dozens more, hundreds, but it never got any easier, her rejection always stung.

No, he needed _his _Claire, the Claire that had learnt to tolerate his presence in her immortal life, learnt not to hate him with her every breath. The Claire that had taken him into her team, taken him back into her life and then saved him, time and time again. _His _Claire knew him, had learnt to trust him enough with her life and her teams that she'd called out to him to save her in her weakest moment. That was the Claire he needed to be with. The Claire he needed to go back to, to save one more time.

But first there was something he had to do, something he had to _try_; because like she'd said, what was he if he didn't at least do that much?

Leaving Claire was almost harder than watching her being stolen from him all those years from now. He left the note on the pillow beside her, it wasn't nearly enough, it never could be.

_'I love you. You have no idea how much. One day you'll understand... I promise you you'll see me again, maybe then you'll find it in your heart to forgive me."_


	10. Ethan

**Chapter 10: Ethan**

Claire opened her eyes and stared at the unusual sight of a completely different ceiling to the one she was expecting. She frowned glancing to the sides, recognising the familiar shapes of Ethan's apartment, but as she glanced at the empty space beside her, not the shape of Ethan himself. Pulling the sheet up to her chest, she sat up.

"Ethan?" she called lightly, glancing at the clock, it was only 07:00, she hadn't taken him for that early a riser. But there was no response and the apartment was silent.

A flash of concern flooded her before she pushed it away, Ethan could look after himself, he'd probably gone out to get something for breakfast. She pulled open a cupboard and smirked, he had definitely gone out, clearly he hadn't been expecting company if the lonely jar of peanut butter in the otherwise empty fridge was anything to go by.

So, unconcerned she took a shower and got herself redressed, regretting mildly that her body didn't seem any different at all after last night. She had hoped there might be something, a twinge, an ache, but nothing, just as usual. She felt a smile rise onto her lips at the memory and closed her eyes for a moment just to savour it, she wasn't sure what most people's first times were like, but she was fairly certain her's had been incredible. But then her entire relationship with Ethan seemed to be encapsulated by that one word, it almost made her nervous. She was certain it wasn't supposed to feel so good, and nothing in her life ever seemed to be this easy.

It wasn't until it reached 08:30 and still no Ethan that she began to search the apartment for a note. She found it pinned to the apartment's front door, her hand shook as she read it, it didn't say much, but it said enough. Claire stumbled and the paper slipped through her fingers, gliding down to the floor to lie there taunting her.

Her mind spun. She couldn't believe it; he'd used her, gained her confidence, her love, all to sleep with her and then vanish. Was she even worth that much effort? She didn't exactly have low self-esteem, but she couldn't see someone bothering to put months of effort into simply sleeping with her.

'_I love you. You have no idea how much. One day you'll understand... I promise you you'll see me again, maybe then you'll find it in your heart to forgive me."_

It seemed so final, like he was gone forever. _'Good!'_

Claire slid down the wall and hugged her knees to her chest, trying not to cry. She wasn't sure which was worse, the shock, the anger, or the gut wrenching sense of betrayal. At the moment she thought shock might be winning out, she couldn't seem to make her feet move, and she certainly didn't feel like getting up any time soon.

If he loved her, why had he left her?

Did she even want to see him again?

Could she forgive him?

All three questions depended on understanding where he was and why he'd left, neither of which she knew, or understood.

Had she driven him away?

That question was the worst and she loathed herself for thinking it, because it invited the rest of them. Was she unlovable? Was she too much of a freak? Had she done something wrong? Had she been that bad in bed? Had she been stupid enough to miss the signs that he wanted only one thing?

Claire screamed in pure frustration and the tears slipped down her cheeks.

Why?

It was the only question that mattered.

(3 weeks later)

Claire sat down heavily behind the desk, staring darkly at the information, as Micah quietly slipped to the door.

"I'm sorry." He told her and she heard how genuine it was, it only made her want to toss the laptop at him. Micah closed the door and left her to quietly rage.

It had taken her weeks to call the young man, weeks to convince herself that she wasn't going crazy, that things really weren't adding up about Ethan. Weeks more to have Micah search the records and pull up information, all in an attempt to find him and find out about him.

Perhaps she should have just let it go. Looking at the screen in front of her she considered the wisdom in the idea, because apparently something's really were best left unknown. Feeling sick she closed the laptop and attempted to banish the images the CCTV had captured.

At least no one else knew.

Sighing she buried her head in her hands. She had to tell someone, it was important, more important than her own mortification.

Someone had to know Sylar was alive.

She had to tell her father, or Nathan, or Peter... someone. Micah wouldn't breathe a word of it; she knew she could trust him, just like he'd trusted her to help the people he sent to her. But the way he'd looked at her, there had been no disgust, but the pity... she wasn't sure she could stand her father, either of her father's looking at her that way. Maybe Peter would understand, but she was certain he'd try and comfort her, try and tell her she wasn't to blame, try to absolve her of this.

But she couldn't absolve herself. Yanking the lid up again she pulled up the images, and dragged the mugshots the Company had taken of Sylar closer, and then pulled a picture of Ethan from out of her purse. Looking at them side by side, she felt her stomach sink. The similarities were there for all to see. Granted the sharp blue eyes she had always adored on Ethan's face threw you, but if you ignored them and looked at the face, at the lips... her breath caught, the smirk. God he'd barely even tried to hide it. Her eyes closed and her God forsaken memory that never seemed to fail dredged up every single mental image she had of Ethan with that smirk on his lips.

She threw up. Fortunately the bin caught most of it, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand she tried to take slow shallow breaths. She'd never thrown up before. Ever. In fact she took a moment to be relatively pleased with herself and her body for managing something so normal. Before the horror of what she had let into her life settled over her again.

Sylar had raped her. Technically anyway. More than that he'd spent four months with her, four months where she confessed every single nagging doubt and fear, every secret she could bare to part with. All to Sylar.

Four months of adoring looks and soft touches. Her mind was reeling. Sylar wasn't soft, wasn't adoring. How had he done it?

Her eyes were drawn once more the CCTV images that Micah had dug out of the Governments classified archives. All part of their secrecy act, drawn up by Nathan, Angela and the New Company, to conceal the fact that people with abilities existed. Clearly no one from her family had ever seen it, she couldn't imagine them keeping it from her. But it was unmistakeably Sylar, landing on a rooftop at Georgetown University. She checked the date stamp again, 28th September 2009; the day she'd met Ethan. Her eyes drifted back up as Sylar landed and the camera switched to reveal him pausing in front of the cafeteria doors, he glanced around briefly and finding himself alone, his face shifted. It got her every time, seeing his features morph into Ethan's.

The laptop skidded across the floor with the force she'd hurled it, smoke erupted but she didn't care. Sylar... the name seared through her and anger whipped around so tangibly she could imagine it was visible. She'd make him pay for this!

(another 3 weeks later)

It took weeks, weeks in which she moved through life like a shell, weeks where family and friends pressed her for information. But at the end of those three weeks she began to ask herself the questions her anger hadn't allowed for.

Had Sylar loved her? Did he still? And if so why had he left?

Not that she wasn't glad he wasn't still in her life, still fooling her into loving him. But it didn't explain why he had left. Surely he'd won? The whole world thought he was dead, he'd convinced her utterly he was someone else, and she'd loved him.

It had taken her this long to admit it, but in the quietness of her own mind, she acknowledged that she had loved him. Because she wasn't convinced Ethan had been entirely an act. Too much was the same, some of the questions, the actions. He'd been possessive, dominating, controlling. Granted it had been subtle, but it had been there... and she'd liked it, liked it from Ethan.

Had he done it just to prove a point? He'd promised her she would love him, eventually. Perhaps the prospect of 100 years to get to that promised point had seemed like too long for him? Or was it simpler even than that. Was it all just to prove that she was already capable of loving him, loving the man behind the monsters mask?

It was a good thing that her body didn't seem able to fluctuate in weight, because she was certain her current lack of apatite would have raised more than a few eyebrows if it had shown. As it was she could barely think about eating, sleeping, studying.

She missed him. Ethan. Trying to separate them out into two people was helping, she knew he was Sylar, but she couldn't admit that she missed Sylar... wouldn't. But she could miss Ethan.

(two months later)

Claire stood in the corridor for what seemed like hours, trying to work up the courage to knock on her dad's apartment door in the middle of the night. It took him a minute to pull open the door, but when he did she realised he couldn't have long gotten in despite the hour, his glasses were in place, as was the ever present suit.

"Dad." She smiled thinly, but it didn't reach her eyes, it never seemed to anymore.

"Claire bear." He managed looking thoroughly surprised to see her. His large arms went up and crushed her too his chest in what to anyone else would probably have been a painfully tight hug. She couldn't help it, in the safety of his arms, with the familiar scent of his aftershave in his neat little apartment, she broke down.

"Claire honey." He tried, grasping her face and pulling her inside, shutting the door firmly behind as he examined her as if looking for damage. "What is it, what's happened?"

"I need to tell you something." Claire began shakily, looking away from him, as his hands brushed through her hair. "But I don't know how."

"You can tell me anything." He insisted. "Claire?" He began and pulled her into a hug again just holding her to him, and making soft shushing noises to ease her sobbing. "I know we haven't seen much of each other lately, but I'm always here for you." she nodded, she knew that.

"Tell me Sylar's dead." He froze and she felt her tears stop, she pulled away from him slowly, until she could see his face, had to watch the lie there. He grasped her face again, his eyes boring into hers.

"Claire. Sylar is dead." He snapped off each word with finality.

"Liar." Claire told him quietly, trying to hold back the rage she'd felt since that day in the apartment holding the note.

"Sylar is dead Claire. We burned his body to ashes." Her father repeated firmly, almost shaking her with the insistence that she believe the lie. Because she knew it was a lie, if Sylar was alive, and well, able to stalk and torment her, to reach her, then of all the people in this world, Noah Bennet would know.

Claire narrowed her eyes at him. She didn't understand, feared that she never would. Why would he lie? But she was starting to suspect it was just in his nature to keep secrets and lie to protect them.

"I'm going to say it once more and I swear to you, if you lie to me again, you won't be my father anymore." His eyes darkened and his face twisted in pain, as she wrenched out of his grasp, turning away from him, she couldn't bear to watch. "Is Sylar dead?"

"Of course."

Claire hung her head feeling tears slip free again. "He raped me." She heard his breath catch and felt the strength in the arms that gripped her biceps spinning her around. It was the first time she'd dared to think those words let alone say them, in her mind she'd been willing, but it had all been a lie. Ethan might have made love to her... but Sylar had raped her, and not just her body. What he had done was so much worse, she'd never trust another man again, couldn't, she wouldn't even be able to trust herself.

"What? When?" he insisted his voice barely a growl, suddenly looking every inch as dangerous as she knew he could be.

Claire lifted her eyes to his and he winced at the anger she knew was blazing there. "It's not important. He's dead remember." She shrugged out of his grip and shoved him solidly in the chest, he clearly wasn't expecting it because he stumbled back a pace, staring at her like she'd gone mad.

"You're not my father. Not anymore." She spat coolly, trying to keep a hold on the pain at the idea, but unable to go back on her word, this was one lie too many, out of the thousands he'd offered her over the years.

"And Sylar is alive. That bastard came into my life, he made me love him, convinced me utterly... used me. I don't know why, or what he was trying to prove, or why he left without so much as bragging about it. But it was him. If you want proof go find Micah."

Claire spun on her heel, reaching the door in a few paces, "Claire wait!" her father cried, darting after her, but he was too slow, the door slammed in his face, and by the time he'd wrenched it open she was taking the express route out of the high rise apartment.

(1 month later)

Their confession kept her stunned in her seat. Claire glanced at Peter, he looked physically sick, she recognised that expression having recently worn it herself.

"How could you keep this from us?" Peter managed weakly, but she wasn't fooled, he might look like his world had just collapsed but she could see the rage brimming behind his eyes.

Oddly enough she felt detached, clinical even as her eyes travelled over Angela's face, onto Matt's, completely ignoring her father as if he wasn't even in the room.

"Because that's what they do." She hissed. "They lie and conspire and innocent people get hurt. But that doesn't matter, so long as the greater good is served. Isn't that right?" she quirked an eyebrow at them.

"But this?" Peter practically growled leaping out of his chair and sending it clattering to the floor behind him. "Nathan's dead and you thought that... that thing could take his place?" Claire watched their faces, but they were impassive, only Matt's flickered with even an ounce of regret.

"It was necessary Peter. We needed Nathan, as a family, as a species. We used Sylar to correct the mistakes that had been made. But you have to understand Peter, he is your brother, Parkman erased everything, he believes he's Nathan, and he's done it well. You didn't even notice the difference!" It was the wrong thing to say, even Claire could see that, as numb as she felt, the insinuation stung even her.

"That is Sylar." Peter snarled. "It always was, and it always will be. Just because he doesn't remember now, doesn't mean he won't. I think this whole 'Ethan' thing has proved just that. Clearly a part of him has remembered enough to go after Claire!" Claire winced at the name, unable to help it, even now as Peter stared down the man she used to call father.

"Is he Nathan then?" Claire snapped, needing clarification, "Or is he Sylar?" she added shaking her head as she struggled to bite back the near hysterical laughter that was threatening to bubble over. "Or is he Ethan?" she snarled. "Who raped me? Was it my father, my enemy, my boyfriend?"

"Claire!" Noah let out a pained cry, but Angela cut hi off with a hand to his chest.

"No. She won't hear it from you, or me. Not now." She sighed wearily and Claire felt nothing soften inside of her at her grandmother's apparent frailty in this matter. "Parkman, she has a right to know what we've discovered. Would you please explain it."Angela snapped.

Claire's eyes latched onto the detective, a man she'd once thought of as the very epitome of an honest soul, but even he'd been twisted by the moral vacuum that was Angela Petrelli and Noah Bennet. The idea that he could do what he had, rip Sylar's mind apart, and kill even her memory of who Nathan was, by tarnishing it with the better Nathan that Sylar had been.

"Claire, it wasn't any of them." She rolled her eyes at him. "I'm serious." He snapped, looking guilty and irritable. "Micah showed us what he'd found, we compared it with time-stamps of Nathan's recent appearances. That day that Sylar showed up on your campus, the day you met Ethan, Nathan was 300 miles away giving a press conference."

Claire froze, she felt like she'd been slapped.

"I know what I saw." She snarled, unable to believe they were going to try and cover it up.

"And so do we. That's why we did some more digging, with Micah's help and Bennet's influence, we found out that day there was a disturbance reported to the D.C. police department."

"What sort of disturbance?" she pressed her own curiosity getting the better of her.

"Several witnesses reported seeing a man falling. Other's reported seeing a half naked man looking like he was wearing half a metal can and covered in blood fleeing the scene of an impact. Investigators found what looked like the impact site of a body from roughly the stratosphere... at an altitude higher than any commercial plane can fly."

Claire sat forward in her chair and buried her face in her hands. "What are you saying?" she didn't want to hear it all, how they'd worked it out, what it all meant, she just wanted the explanation now.

"There are two Sylar's." Her father told her quietly.

Parkman sighed. "That's our best guess. There's the one that believes he is Nathan Petrelli."

Angela cut across him, stifling Peter's reaction to that all too fresh revelation. "And the one that came after you dear."

Peter got up and stalked from the room, slamming the door firmly behind him. Angela hurried after him, though what she could possibly say Claire had no clue. It stung slightly that Peter apparently was so consumed in his own grief and betrayal that he didn't seem to have time for hers, hadn't even seemed to consider that maybe she needed him.

"How is that possible?" Claire asked finally when the quiet began to stretch between the three of them.

"We don't know honey." Noah replied and she flinched at the word from him. He sighed and continued. "But it looks like the moment he arrived here he headed straight for you. The time stamp suggests he knew exactly where to find you. Then he went about creating a false life for himself. He falsified records, details, an entire history. And he did it, or so Micah informs us, in a way only someone with a tech ability like his could have managed."

Claire slid up out of her seat and stalked out of the door, much as Peter had, only she never intended on coming back.

"There's something else." Matt called after her causing her to pause half way down the corridor, torn between never wanting to see any of them again, and wanting to understand. Her curiosity won out, she turned to glare at him.

"I can draw the future sometimes. Do you remember, like that time I showed you that drawing right before the SWAT team came for us?" he pressed and she didn't change her resolute expression. Of course she remembered, she couldn't forget anything, her body wouldn't let her, she glared at him waiting for him to continue as he hurried up to her, lowering his voice.

"Well I drew something a few days ago, several something's. They just seemed to happen, I was so focussed on figuring out how there could be two of them, two Sylar's, that well..." he thrust a bunch of folded pages into her hands, that he'd withdrawn from inside his jacket. "I haven't shown anyone." He added, "and for the record. I'm sorry. I never meant for any of this and I know it doesn't mean a God damn thing to you now. But I had to say it." Claire nodded and spun on her heel, not slowing until she was back inside her car, the wheels squealing with her insistence to put as much distance between her and those lying sons of bitches as she could.

Claire pulled into a diner parking lot thirty five miles away, and cut the car's engine. Slowly with steady hands she lifted up the pages and carefully opened them out. Her eyes narrowed as she did the same to the next one, and the next one, laying them out across the dashboard and the passenger seat like some awful version of 'Claire Bennet this is your life'. Bile rose and she squashed it, as her eyes absorbed the information her brain couldn't. Hand drawn images of her in different jobs, different locations, fighting, dying, loving, living.

The one thing that struck her immediately was the passage of time spread out before her. Sylar had been blunt with her about her own immortality and these pictures only confirmed it in startling clarity for her. She was going to live a very long, very bloody life.

Her eyes strayed to the last piece of paper, the one that seemed the most important. It was unmistakeably her, or what was left of her, floating in a big round vat, and beside it, Sylar was pounding his fists against the glass. Her eyes shot to the other drawings one last time, taking in the dark figure that lurked in the shadows in some, or brazenly out in the open in others. But he was there in all of them. Watching, waiting. Her eyes fell one last time to the image of her and the vat. Was he saving her, or was he watching her die? Had he done that to her, or had he failed to stop it?

It struck her then, so completely that she felt like an idiot for not having seen it. Ethan had told her he'd lost someone, lost the woman he'd loved but never had. And he'd asked her so directly about time-travel, about changing the past, averting wars.

It wasn't the Sylar she knew that had come for her, that had loved her, tried to keep her, left her. It was _this_ Sylar, this broken man at the end of the world, sobbing over a vat that held what was left of her.

And it was _this_ Sylar that could answer her questions she stared resolutely at his hand drawn image; _this_ Sylar that would dog her every step, shadow her for eternity.

_This_ Sylar she would have to let live even knowing what he'd done, if she ever wanted to know why... with all his power, after all those questions. Why he'd come back to try and save her, instead of trying to save the world?

But that was a conversation that would have to wait... until the end of the world.


	11. To Pieces

**Chapter 11: To Pieces**

The world reappeared around him, Sylar watched as the alien vessel with _his _Claire on board sailed overhead. There was no time to wait, to rethink the plan, everything was just as he'd left it so long ago, he could feel it through his ability, the ripples and distortions in time. It had accommodated his small indiscretion with her and the other larger ones he'd committed to the world since, snapping back like a rubber band. So that over the time the effect had been a wash in the grand scheme of things; just like always, he thought somewhat bitterly.

But right here, right now, his present self was staring at the ship, on his knees too weak, too hopeless to save her the one time she'd asked him to try, too late when he finally did.

Sylar's feet left the floor and in moments he was rising into the air chasing down the vessel. He was a shining great bulls eye and _they_ rarely missed but he was fuelled with something new and powerful for the first time in his entire life he felt like there was something to live for... to fight for. He landed on the metal having narrowly missed the energy canons. But as the craft ascended the air started to get thin, and frost began to creep across his skin. In seconds he'd be dead, even he couldn't survive the vacuum of space.

He stalked across the metal, until he found a hatch that looked less secure than the others. Of course they hadn't really considered someone with his abilities when designing them, he assumed. He focused on the hatch and blasted it with electricity frying the internal circuits, which seemed to run off something similar to the energy based weapons, which the human race had managed to reverse engineer, but electricity seemed to knock them out well enough, at least temporarily. He yanked it open with telekinesis and dropped down inside, fully expecting to have to dodge blasts, only to find nothing but absolute silence. He frowned, before remembering the wide open hole in the hull, he flicked his wrist and the panel slid back into place, sealing with a hiss.

Sylar paused, as far as he knew, and besides Claire of course and whoever else they'd decided were potentially of more use alive to study than dead, he was probably the first person to get a good look inside one of these ships when it was fully functional... such was the dire state of the war. Quietly he made his way through circular corridors which were too low and narrow for a human being to walk comfortably upright through, so he flew, apparently there was gravity... or at least something like it, which was good because he'd always figured that human flight was more to do with gravity manipulation than having rocket propelled limbs.

There was writing on certain hatches and corridors, scrawls that much like the aliens spoken language he and the rest of the human race had failed miserably to interpret, he fared no better now. Not that it would matter, the damn bastards had never opened any sort of dialogue between their two species. They'd just shown up and started strip mining the place, collapsing cities here and there until the world was little more than a hollowed out husk. Personally he got the distinct impression that they considered the human race something akin to cattle, cattle that occasionally had stings in their tails. Which probably explained the early extermination of major populations.

Still, he wished now that he knew a little more. So far all he'd discovered about them in his extended searching, was that electricity hurt them, they didn't like high frequency sound waves and that ripping the hind brain out made them dumb as a plank, but didn't prevent them from taking a chunk out of you with the rest of their still functional body. Which even he had to admit, whilst repulsive, at least from his point of view, was probably far better in design than a human beings, there were no weak fleshy bits, most of those were concealed behind the hard exoskeleton, around which they also wore armour.

In fairness, even he had to admit Claire was as close as an expert the human race had on the damn things, having dragged the first one into HQ, very dead, but still very informative. Not to mention the copious ways she'd found to inflict pain and death to them with the minimum of effort and ammo. Which brought him back to her current predicament. HQ had warned her, warned him, hell warned her entire squad of burly marines that the damn things were out to capture not kill her now. Apparently the 'psychs' had seen some rather unpleasant things in her future if someone didn't prevent it. As he glanced around the almost cave like vessel, he considered his rather overdue rescue somewhat lame.

But the memory of her, of what it felt like to be loved by someone like her, it was still fresh in his mind and he used it now as he crept through the empty echoing walls, expecting to be vaporised or something equally final any moment. Only he wasn't, his confidence grew with every uncontested inch of ground he covered, of course he also considered that maybe he was going in circles. He stopped and glanced out one of the small portholes he took for windows and quickly looked away, pretending that he hadn't seen the image of the Earth, receding into a black sea of stars. That was a problem for later, if Claire was still alive he'd worry about escape then, if not, well then he wasn't all that bothered about escape.

After half an hour of searching and finding nothing, not even a handy 'you are here' map from back in the days of shopping malls and idiot proof instructions he was forced to close his eyes and look inward. He'd been avoiding this as a last resort, didn't want to know absolutely for sure that she was dead, but as he closed his eyes and focused on finding her, on her exact location... he found it. It was weak, almost feint, but it was there, which meant that whilst she might not be technically alive, her ability was probably keeping her tied to her body.

He stopped and turned right abruptly, landing he began stalking with purpose, feeling like the elite commando he was supposed to be.

Dead end.

Sylar frowned, and concentrated, he was certain that Claire was behind this wall, literally right behind it. Only there was no doorway, granted this whole place was like a rabbit warren, but he was sure this was supposed to be the way in. Sylar lifted his hands and began to explore the wall, he pulled his hands away quickly in mild disgust when they came away sticky, there was some sort of secreted resin all over the surface. He frowned and glanced down at his feet... he'd been so preoccupied he hadn't even noticed his boots were covered in it. Granted any obstruction the stickiness might have caused had been negated by his flying most of the way, and the fact that he really was very strong... and he'd been defaulting to that ability for a while now since Ethan.

There was nothing else for it. The moment his hand slammed through the solid material, with the force of telekinesis and his own strength, alarms began blaring. Or at least what he assumed were alarms. It wasn't a bell like a human alarm would be, instead the light level changed dramatically and also in colour, if he was looking to hide in shadows the sudden almost strobe effect wasn't going to help him. Blinking in shock he continued to pummel the wall until he could pull his way through the gap he'd created. Straightening up he got his first look at the room Claire was supposed to be in.

Sylar froze.

He wasn't sure if it was a medical facility, storage bay, prisoner cell or what; all he knew was that, what was left of Claire was floating in odd tubs of yellow gelatinous goo... several of them.

He choked back bile, he'd thought the sight of her broken and torn apart inside that Drop Cage what seemed like a lifetime ago now, would have been the worst state he'd seen her in.

He was wrong.

Sylar darted forward towards the vat that seemed to hold her head, or rather her head and spinal column, his eyes widened in horror as he realised the majority of her organs were floating in various vats, limbs in others. He pressed his hands to the glass-like material and recoiled in shock as an eye opened.

"Fuck." He managed weakly. "I'm here." he rasped, she blinked, whether it was a reflex or not he had no idea. There was no respirator inside the tank but then she had no lungs so he assumed it was some sort of oxygenated nutrient gel that was supporting the organic tissue. There was also no lid.... he examined all around the edges coming to the conclusion that it was just one big circular dome filled to the brim with goo.

"I'm going to smash it!" he yelled through glass, having no idea if her mind was even intact, or if her ears were functional. He felt rage course through him; even human beings wouldn't have done this to her, and he knew from experience that humans were capable of some truly monstrous acts. Of course no member of the human race would harm a hair on Claire's head, not now, hell you'd be hard pressed to find one that wouldn't dive needlessly in front of an energy blast for her.

Her eyes fluttered and he stopped in his downward swing, focussing on the sudden frantic action, her eyes followed him and he felt his mouth go dry. So she was still in there. He wasn't sure what was worse. The fact that she was alive, maintained by whatever this alien shit was and her ability; or if she'd been gone. He knew which was better for him, he just wasn't sure which she'd have preferred.

"What?" he gesticulated hopelessly through the glass at her, having no clue what it was she was trying to communicate. "The alarms are already blaring... or strobing, whatever the hell it is they're doing. They damn well know I'm here!" he snapped assuming that was what she was trying to warn him about. He raised his hand again and she began batting her eyelids madly at him, he frowned, as her gaze narrowed... he recognised that glare. That was her, 'take another step and your dead' glare, it hadn't lost any of its potency, even given her current state.

He hesitated arm in the air, electricity cackling before he snuffed it out. If she didn't want out of the goo then there was probably a damn good reason for it. He rested his forehead against the tank, leaning in to stare at her face. Her mouth didn't seem to be responding to commands she was giving it, it was slack, hollow, he realised she had no tongue in there, or teeth. Taking note of every trauma she'd suffered, he catalogued them all, he'd repay these bastards for every inch of her skin they'd mutilated.

"Claire." He breathed. "Jesus! Tell me what to do!" Never in all his life had he regretted sparing the life of Matt Parkman more. He would have killed the Pope himself now if he had the power of telepathy to offer him.

Slowly and deliberately Claire began to blink, dot dot dash dot. Sylar blanched, oh he knew how to read it, but he really didn't have time for her to spell out the escape plan to him. But biting down on the panic, the urge to simply smash the vat to bits he watched, taking in every flutter of long dark eyelashes. He pressed his palms to the vat when she was done, her wide eyes watching him expectantly.

The goo was suppressing her ability; but more than that it was reactive, if it was jostled too violently before it came into contact with the air it would quite literally incinerate what was left of her.

"Trust me." He barked through the glass and her eyes widened fractionally. He closed his eyes and pressed his hands to the glass more firmly, searching every arsenal in his body for what he needed. Sylar opened his mouth and screamed; the power and pitch of the frequency he emitted slammed into the glass, or whatever the hell material it was; but didn't send even a single ripple into the liquid goo. His eyes snapped open to fix on hers and he increased the intensity of it, until he found the frequency that would resonate; cracks began to appear in the material.

Long splintering, creeping cracks that shuddered with every blast from his voice. Finally he watched in relief as the liquid began to pierce through the weakest points, spraying out with violent force in to the air. Sylar closed his mouth and pressed his hands to the glass watching as the viscous liquid slowly drained from around her.

He prayed to God he'd been right, that he'd understood her rushed message. But as her head cleared the goo and it dropped below her neck, he watched in fascination as nerve and muscle began to rush along her exposed spinal column. He grinned madly, watching the whole grotesque sight of Claire quite literally being reborn before him as though it were the most beautiful sight in the world.

The last of the goo slid away and left her curled up on the bottom of the vat, skin racing over her to leave her new, golden and utterly perfect; he hardly even noticed the yellow sheen. Claire lifted her head and raised herself onto her knees.

But Sylar didn't have the chance to savour the moment, and energy blast erupted from behind him, it missed his head by a fraction of an inch, and shattering what was left of the vat, freeing Claire fully.

All the rage, every inch of damage he'd catalogued that these bastards had done to her he hurled back at the first unfortunate Roach to stick it's head through the hole. Abilities he hadn't felt the need to use in centuries tore from him with a primal scream of fury, liquefying, disintegrating, microwaving until the corridor beyond looked like a charnel house, and smelt worse.

Claire's hand came down on his shoulder and he spun on her, hand raised, only to have her twist him and redirect the blast of fire into the wall instead of her head. Breathing heavily his eyes practically ablaze he stared darkly back at her.

"They're dead." She told him with quiet anger, but there was a tremble to her voice he wasn't expecting, he wasn't sure if it was true anger or just adrenalin creeping in.

"Not dead enough." He muttered darkly, turning back to obliterate the twitching corpse of the closest.

"I'm sure there will be plenty more for you to kill." She continued, her hands grasping his own, it took him a few moments to realise she was holding them still, his whole body was shaking violently.

"It's shock." She told him quietly, "It'll pass." He glanced sidelong at her.

"Isn't that supposed to be my line?" he asked in disbelief at how calm she seemed, the memories of the young Claire and _this _Claire crashing through his brain and trying to reconcile with what the one he was seeing.

She smirked back at him, her skin and hair still caked with hardening yellow goo, and yet somehow she still looked beautiful to him. "You always were a pussy." He glared at her, but found a smile flickering across his lips. Clearly expecting her to leap into his arms with unrestrained gratitude had been more than a little optimistic on his part.

"Are you...?" the 'alright' died on his lips at her smug look.

"Aren't I always."

"You were in pieces." Sylar managed, looking at the remaining vats that had survived the obliterated room and her organs still floating in them.

Claire chose not to answer, but he noticed she was deliberately not looking at the vats.

"Looks like HQ were right." She muttered. "And you can't say I wasn't warned." She trailed off and Sylar frowned, getting the feeling he was missing something there.

"Was that a thank you?" Sylar asked fishing for something he'd never get voluntarily.

Her eyebrows rose. "We're still..." her eyes flickered across the room and the blood slicked corridor. "Where exactly are we?"

"Roach ship." Sylar replied a little grimly. Her eyebrows rose another inch. "A Roach space ship." He amended, suddenly weary.

"Then I'd say the rescue wasn't quite over yet. Wouldn't you?" Claire pointed out darkly.

Sylar watched as she made her way through the corridor, quite deliberately stepping on as many intact skulls as she could manage even in bare feet until they cracked. It wasn't quite the reunion he'd hoped for, but it was the one he should have expected. After all for Claire nothing had changed he was still just Sylar.

He stalked after her, by the time he'd reached her she'd appropriated several energy weapons and was currently blowing apart two unfortunate Roaches that in his opinion should have played dead. Apparently Claire knew where she was going, and evidently the small compact corridors gave her no issues.

He pulled up abruptly, when she stopped in front of him, at a series of portholes that gave a view outside.

"Where the hell are we?" Claire snarled, sounding slightly unnerved at the sight before them as they stared out of the view port, but it seemed like a largely rhetorical question.

Sylar smirked, unable to resist. "Space… the final frontier." Claire shot him a look that told him in no uncertain terms that she wasn't, nor had ever been, a Trekkie and apparently wasn't in the slightest bit amused at the prospect of drifting into the blackness of deep space with him.


	12. Everything, In Time

**Chapter 12: Everything, In Time**

Apparently whatever this vessel was, whatever its purpose was, it only required a skeleton crew to operate. Sylar was fairly certain that they had killed everything else living on the ship.

The control room, at least that's what he assumed the room with all the machinery and blinking lights was, seemed abandoned. Claire scanned the area, finding nothing, her fingers brushed machinery and consoles, but it meant as little to her as it did to him.

"Tell me you found something to empathise with Derek about." Claire asked him pointedly, staring edgily at the alien monitors and indecipherable glyphs that he assumed were some sort of computer language, because they were different to the ones carved throughout the ships interior.

Sylar shot her another look, that he hoped hadn't revealed himself, but it didn't seem to matter, she was still staring wordlessly out at the stars through another viewer, but there was no trace of Earth in any direction.

Claire rolled her eyes as she turned back to glare at him. "I'm assuming that teleporting us back to Earth might be out of the question?"she asked, apparently her memory was as sharp as ever, he'd almost hoped she'd forgotten about his little time bending episode back in the caves beneath the Earth, what seemed like a lifetime ago to him now, several in fact; and all the possible implications of him having that ability that would inevitably go with it.

As it was, he had found something to empathise with Captain Derek about… her. Though he'd be damned if at _this_ point in time, with _this_ Claire he'd tell her that. But she was right, he wasn't entirely sure about the limits of his newest ability, but given as it had a habit of failing on him, he wasn't too keen to try a long distance jump across the vastness and vacuum of space.

"Derek and I seemed to reach an understanding." Sylar acknowledged finally.

"Have you tried using it?"

"Once or twice." He admitted, not elaborating on the fact that he'd very actively used the ability to talk to machines, to forge 'Ethan's' college credentials and slot himself into her life with a half credible back story complete with birth certificate. Not to mention the ATM's he'd conveniently convinced to unload fistfuls of cash into his eager hands, or the myriad of other uses he'd found for it in his travels. It would only irritate her he decided, still wondering how; or even if he should broach that particular subject.

"Do you think you can understand this thing enough to fly it?" She asked quirking an eyebrow at him, as she finally looked up into his face. "Because I'm fairly certain we shot the driver."

"I don't think Derek could," he began and her expression flickered, but it was too fast for him to register what had gone through her head at that moment. "But my natural ability gives me a knack for this type of thing."

Claire turned away from him, returning her gaze to the view port. "I'll take that as a maybe."

He frowned; coming to stand behind her and share the view, the urge to reach up and touch her shoulders, to ghost his hands down them, was almost too much. The memory of being buried between her legs, skin to skin, enjoying the feel of her as she came apart around him, was still so fresh, even after so much time. The way her hands attempted to draw him closer still, whilst her mouth kissed him into oblivion. It was somewhat sobering to realise he might never have that again; no matter how much he wanted it; because he couldn't lie to _this_ Claire, couldn't fool her with a pretty face and false words.

Sylar sighed, if his recent trips had taught him anything, it was that there was no time like the present. "I have a confession to make."

She stilled, or rather seemed to become so still he wasn't entirely certain she was still breathing. "I'm not a priest."

"Funny, I've always thought of you more as a goddess anyway." He commented and was surprised to see the way her lips curled up at the corners a fraction.

"I failed you." He sighed again, "Just like you said I would, when it came right down to it, I froze. My ability failed, and you paid the price."

"You came after me." Claire shrugged, "And really there was no permanent damage done." She spared him a glance he could almost mistake it for fondness, if it wasn't for the sharp glint of steel in her eyes.

"You were carved up into pieces Claire, and god knows what else before they got to that. Or what they intended to do with those pieces when you reached whatever stinking, Roach infested, cesspool of a planet spawned those bastards." He reached out to stroke her face, only to have his hand deflected by hers with a hard slap and a shrewd look on her face.

"Lucky for me then, that you found some balls." She was watching him intently and he let his hand fall away, not sure what to make of her expression.

"My confession?" He tried to get back on track. Claire rolled her eyes.

"If you feel the need," she placed a hand on her hip, waiting, "why not."

"I didn't come after you straight away." Sylar admitted, watching her face for any sign of emotion, or intent. Only there was nothing but faint amusement.

"I'm sorry Sylar, but you're not exactly telling me anything new here; or unexpected." She stared hard at him.

"You don't understand." He pressed his finger and thumb against his closed eyelids, suddenly regretting starting this conversation. It wasn't going to end well, but he couldn't seem to stop himself.

"I used my ability, I time travelled. I was…." He trailed off not sure exactly what he'd been thinking in those moments. "I was afraid I guess; a coward. When they took you I'd just frozen and I couldn't control my ability."

"Sylar this isn't the time for this confession... or whatever it is." Claire waved her hands as though it really was just some mild annoyance, "Every moment we spend dancing around the issue that you chose to use your power to travel back in time and seduce an eighteen year old girl instead of undoing all this mess; leaves us drifting further into space." Claire spared him a sharp look as her words hit him and his mouth fell open in surprise.

"I…" he trailed off. "You knew?"

Claire rolled her eyes and socked him soundly in the jaw.

"You're forgiven for being a coward and a man... 'Ethan'." He grasped his cheek, waiting as the pain rescinded and the dislocated bone reconnected.

"Claire?" He tried to understand how she could have known, how the hell she could have known for the better part of 700 years and not let him in on that fact, was almost impossible to believe. How she could not have attempted to get revenge upon him for it was almost unbelievable.

She raised her index finger and pressed it to his lips, "You aren't that smart Sylar." She smirked at him, "And you never were all that subtle."

He frowned. "I was careful." His eyes widened as her smug smile only increased and seemed to lighten up her eyes with long overdue amusement. "Why are you not breaking me in half?" he managed thoroughly confused.

"Because it was a long time ago; from my perspective at least. And at the time; strangely enough, it was what I needed." Her lips thinned and her eyes dropped fractionally to his lips. "Ethan, was what I needed. When I realised it had been a lie... well it wasn't exactly the biggest lie I had to deal with that year was it now." She explained shrewdly.

"Ethan never existed. There was only me!" He snapped, angry now that in her mind she seemed to have separated the two. In his anger he foolishly grabbed her by the throat. He had a second to consider the idiocy of it before the searing pain in his crotch doubled him over and he collapsed to the floor curling up almost foetal, until her healing power kicked in and he felt his balls repair. Spluttering and with slightly more aggression than was probably wise he launched himself at her, managing to pin her to the metal bulkhead with superior strength, mental abilities and the sheer fact that she didn't seem too bothered by his sudden assault this time.

"What is it you want Sylar?" she snapped clearly exasperated. "The entire world is quite literally falling apart, our best guess has it at about .01% of the population have been left alive, and I use alive loosely to describe anyone that's still breathing." She leant closer, bringing their lips inches from each others, he itched to incline his head that extra fraction, but phantom pain lingered in his fully healed balls, reminding him of the consequence.

"You had the power to undo all of it, only you didn't. You don't give a shit about the world, about the human race. And I swear to God if you give me some drivel now about how I'm the one thing you do give a shit about, I'll find away to permanently detach your balls from your body!"

He didn't dignify her verbal attack with a response, he simply crashed his lips against hers, pressing her newly reformed and still naked body against the metal bulkhead hard enough to rattle her teeth. Those same teeth bit down hard against his lips and blood welled in his mouth, he winced but utterly refused to remove his mouth from hers. She groaned as his knee slid between her legs and he hoisted her further up against the wall until he could press his groin against her hip. She was letting him kiss him, there was no other explanation for it, and he moaned deeply unable to believe his luck. Then her hand wrapped around his throat and pushed him away enough that he was forced to stare bewildered at her.

"I must have been some lay to have you hard for me 700 years later." He dropped her like she'd burnt him and backed away from her like the poisonous snake she was. Her laugh tore through him and he felt electricity burst from his hands uncontrolled.

"I saved you!" he snarled, unable to believe he'd risked what was left of his pathetic existence for her. There had been, and still was, every chance he'd end up in a hundred pieces floating in a jar next to her.

"And I'm sure it was a selfless act Gabriel." Her smirk darkened and he grew harder just at the thought of it... at the memory of that warm, soft, mouth, he was sick, she was sick, this whole fucked up thing between them was beyond sick, they were both toxic to each other.

She continued undeterred by his reaction, "Just as I'm sure that it had nothing to do with getting in my pants again after all this time." Sarcasm dripped from her words like acid and he felt the burn.

Sylar was tired of this; of feeling like he needed to apologise for his goddamn obsession with this little bitch. "I hate to burst your bubble Claire." He snarled, "But it's all fresh to me. I haven't had to wait for a damn thing!" that wiped the smug look off her face, okay so it wasn't necessarily true, but she didn't need to know that.

"No." He continued. "I think it's you that's been waiting for me for 700 years." Sylar shoved her hard in the chest and she smoothly sidestepped him so that he ended up slamming his fists into the bulkhead with frustration. "Why else would you keep it your dirty little secret? You'd have used it against me before now, hell you could have done away with me a hundred times for it. If you wanted too that is." He accused.

He turned to meet her eyes, pleased to find the emerald sheen was sparking with suppressed rage, that wasn't entirely able to hide the flush of colour to her cheeks. "But instead," he reasoned, taking the tiger by the tail, understanding as only he could what had happened. "Instead you wait, teasing me, knowing that one day I'll come to you, as a handsome young man and tell you a sob story about losing the woman I loved. And you'll realise when I abandon you, who I was. Only you don't prevent it, don't change history in any way, you let it play out. Waiting for the moment I'll run to you, broken."

Claire was staring so hard that he could almost imagine she could see into his head, that all his deep dark secrets were revealed. Her hands drew together and she clapped slowly, deliberately and sarcastically back at him. "Bravo, I guess you just have me all figured out."

"Not quite. Give it time." He gazed around at the metal control room with its unreadable language, and then out once more into the blackness. "Looks like we have a while."

"Why didn't you stop all this?" she asked him quietly, but he wasn't fooled, there was steel in her voice. He didn't dare look into her eyes when her voice was like that, not like he had that night in the restaurant, lifetimes ago. But he understood, he did after all have a knack for understanding, and Claire was a particularly enjoyable puzzle.

"Ah." He voiced. "So that's it. You waited 700 years, to find out why I chose to come back and fuck you, and fuck over the whole God damn world in the process?" He chuckled darkly, but not in the least bit amused.

"Succinct and vulgar. But yes." She smirked. "You see, you forgot one very important fact when you left me in Ethan's bed... which I'm sure you already know, was just another sick and twisted thing you've done to me, in our whole history of sick and twisted things." Her eyes were hard and he felt as though she was eviscerating him mentally.

"Matt Parkman can draw the future." She finished a little smugly.

Sylar had no response to that. He hadn't known that. Since when did mind readers develop the ability to paint the future? They weren't even related abilities... but she was staring soundly at him, and he had no reason to assume she'd lie, not now.

"He showed you drawings?" Sylar pressed curious now, this was something he'd missed, something he'd never picked up on in over 600 hundred years. The notion that maybe, just maybe, Claire had always known what was coming.

"He showed me, me." She snarled. "And wherever I was, you were. Me and my fucking shadow, for all eternity." Her rage blistered him and he flinched, was that what he seemed to her? Some worthless, hopeless stalker?

"Right up until the last drawing, of me floating in a vat, dismembered, with you beating your fists against it." His eyes widened, well that answered the question as to why she hadn't been a gibbering mad woman about being treated like a slab of meat by aliens. She'd been waiting for it to happen for the better part of 700 years.

"Hypocrite." He snarled back at her, not willing to be out done. Not after she'd dared to hold the fact that he hadn't tried to stop the war, to save the God damn world, against him. "Only you could be mad at me for not changing the world, when you had exactly the same chance to do so!"

"I knew nothing!" She spat. "Only that I would live to see the worst of humanity, the worst of myself." Her finger rose and jabbed sharply into his chest. "I had no real power to effect change. A few disjointed drawings spanning hundreds of years are nothing to go on." Her jabs became painful and he grasped her hand, surprised when she didn't instantly react. "I waited, because I need to understand you, understand what you did. I needed you to save me from that vat. If I'd have simply killed you for what you'd done..." she trailed off looking faintly ill. "I may be prone to self harm, but I'm not suicidal."

Her last question stole the fight from him. "Care to let me in on the inner workings of a mad man's mind?" she pressed, pulling her hand free of his with ease. "After all, you're right, I have waited 665 years for the answer."

Sylar sighed, he supposed it wasn't an unreasonable question, one he'd considered for a split second himself. He smirked, only Claire could puzzle over something that he'd figured out in the space of a few short seconds, for centuries. She herself had forced him to go against his own judgement, his own certainties after that god forsaken conversation in the restaurant, and look where it had gotten them. Right back where they started.

So he spelled it out for her now. "There was never any chance Claire. Not for the Earth, not for humanity. The whole human race will die, because that is their fate."

Claire stared at him wordlessly. She already knew the truth, had confessed it in a restaurant to a man she thought she knew; but she just needed him to be the bad guy one last time and tell her the complete, brutal truth.

"We can't help them Claire. We never could. Because they are mortal, the Earth shining and great as it is, is still mortal."

"You could have tried!" She raged her hands fisting at her sides no doubt in restraint from tearing into him.

"I did!" He snarled back spinning on her and delivering a sharp blow to her cheek that was already healing by the time she was socking him back.

"I tried for 50 Goddamn years Claire!" he threw back at her and she paused, hand hovering inches from his face, revealing his final failure to her, his final shame.

But she had been right, about so many things, but specifically that he hadn't done it for the Goddamn Earth, or for the human race, he did it because he wanted to throw it back in her face when she accused him of not.

Fleeing from her sleeping form that night, he'd jumped out and back into history with clear intent. But clearly Sylar the villain, was never meant to be the hero.

He couldn't save the world, couldn't save the human race, but there had been the chance that he could save her.

"Nothing I did changed anything, they still came, and no matter how the Earth prepared, how many got away or how many times and ways I interfered. The Earth still died, and so did its people. It's had its moment Claire." He sunk to the floor, pressing his back against the alien metal, to ground himself in his agony, sometimes perfect understanding was as much of a curse as immortality.

He watched as the truth hit her, the way her whole body sagged under the weight of it and she slumped down beside him. "I know." She pulled her knees up to her chest and rested her head on them; it was a gesture that reminded him keenly of the girl she had been, the girl that for one fleeting moment in an infinitesimally small part of the Universe, had loved the man he might have been. "I tried too. I tried to avoid this God damn moment. Thought I could stop it." She snorted darkly. "Some fucking heroes we turned out to be."

"Well whatever we are, we are 'it' Claire." He slammed his head back into the bulked in anger, enjoying the feel of the impact that rattled his brain. "We could go back to Earth; gather up survivors, try and get them into the ship before we're blown out of the sky, or the ground collapses beneath their weight." He cracked open an eye to stare at her, but she was staring avidly at her own bare feet. He wished he had a shirt or a jacket to give her, something to cover her with as a gesture, but all he had was his moulded armour and it wouldn't do.

"But then what Claire?" he asked without really asking. "Where would we take them, where would they survive?" his head fell back against the bulkhead.

"And what about us Sylar?" she muttered, running her hands through her blonde, yellow goo encrusted hair, without even seeming to notice it. "How will we survive?"

He chuckled at the irony. "As I understand it, that's never been our problem. We always survive."

Claire raised her head to pin him with her piercing gaze, he almost wished that her eyes were shining, that tears could still leak from those beautiful emerald orbs. But this Claire had long ago lost even that simple ability and he wasn't sure she'd of cried even if she still could.

"So we what?" she crossed her arms across her chest. "We just float out into space, find a new home; a new place to _not_ die?"

"We can come back Claire," he suggested quietly, he had after all had enough time to consider it. "Maybe one day, when the loss isn't so fresh, we could go back, see the Earth when it was young, find a place to stay through time; uninvolved." He offered. "Live out forever in some quiet corner of history."

The idea quirked the corners of her lips. "Maybe." She acknowledged, before sliding gracefully to her feet, he kept his gaze averted from the flesh she had no way of covering.

"But I'd like to find their home. Find _their_ world." She glanced back at him with a smirk. "Then I'd like to tear it apart."

Sylar felt something spark in his chest, he wondered if that was what hope felt like? He stood and came up beside her, following her gaze as a gigantic ringed planet began to loom ever larger in the view port.

"Autopilot." he reasoned, unable to keep his own smirk from forming.

Claire turned to look up at him, "You once told me that you were a weapon." He nodded. "Prove it!" she challenged.

He stared down at her, lifting his hands to her face as he slid them along her jaw into her hair. When he lowered his head to press a savage kiss against her lips she didn't stop him; if anything she pulled the back of his head closer. Sylar jerked back roughly as the whole vessel reverberated, docking firmly with a large floating station that he hadn't even noticed appear in the viewer.

They would die, he was almost certain of it, but if they didn't...

There it was.

That indescribably small chance that they would survive; that maybe they could rain down vengeance on this God forsaken world.

It was his chance to die as a hero; because he sure as hell hadn't lived as one.

Sylar grasped the energy weapons strapped across his leg and handed one to Claire, it slid into her small, deceptively delicate hand, like it belonged there.

He smirked down at her, pressing a kiss to her equally curved lips.

"Who wants to live forever anyway?"

----*----

**A/N: although this was originally intended to be the end I actually plan to extend this a few more Chapters because I think it can go further. Probably Chapter 17-18 will be the end. I'm away with work for a week or so, so updates will be a little slower than usual. Thanks again to all those that reviewed, if you like it ending at this vague/fill in on your own bit, then feel free to stop reading here. If you're curious to know what happens next stick with it.**


	13. Identity Crisis

**Chapter 13:**** Identity Crisis**

The whole ship shuddered as it docked, the lights went off again, this time at a different strobing frequency, instinctively Sylar found himself edging closer to Claire, who was pointing her weapon with stead fast resolution at the docking hatch. Or at least what he'd told her was the docking hatch, personally he thought it was as good a guess as any, Derek's ability or not, the language was still giving him some bother. He was almost hoping for an escape hatch behind it, but as Claire directed him to flank the side of the hatch, he felt the first traces of adrenaline begin to shoot through his system.

Ten minutes later Claire raised an eyebrow and placed a hand on her naked hip and blew out a burst of frustrated air through her lips. "Right, well I think it's safe to say this isn't the hatch." The look she was giving him was pure malevolence and he shrugged, apologetically. After all it wasn't like she was any better at reading the instructions than he was.

"Well this hatch is sealed." He pointed out the blinking indicator lights above it.

"Which your assuming means its pressure locked and theirs atmosphere behind it." She replied scathingly, not dropping her hand from her hip, which ordinarily he would have found irritating, but buck naked as she was, it was almost endearing and he fought the smirk. It was strange, having decided that it was do or die, and he wasn't really expecting a great deal on the former and half hoping for the latter, but his mood had taken a rather sharp upswing. Apparently having nothing left to live for was oddly liberating... in an insane, strap yourself to a rocket and point it at the enemy kind of way.

"Scared?" he bated as he took a step back his hand outstretched towards the hatch, Claire held her breath, it was the only indication she gave as he wrenched the hatch open.

Nothing came out, and they weren't sucked out into the vacuum of space.

"Kind of an anti-climax this." Sylar muttered and the corner of Claire's mouth quirked up. He stepped up to the hatch and stuck his head inside, glancing around, it looked identical to the corridors they'd left. He glanced back at her and took a deliberate step aside. "Ladies first?"

Claire rolled her eyes and stomped past him her weapon aimed ahead, sweeping into the empty dark corridors with precision. He followed her, lightening up the dank corridors with fire from his hands. Her half glance and slight pause reminded him that it had once been her mother's ability... the mother he'd killed; granted he hadn't taken the ability from her, but it was clearly close enough to be an unwelcome reminder of the past for them both. So he closed his fists around the flames extinguishing them and instead letting electricity cackle between his fingertips.

Evidently the docking station was empty, there was no life, no more strobing alarms and no more unnerving shudders of metal against metal.

"I don't get this." Claire growled finally. "Surely the ship sent out a distress call, or indicated that the alarms had been tripped. This place should be crawling..." she glanced up at him, "Shouldn't it?" It was the first time he'd ever heard her sound uncertain about a tactical call and he savoured it for a nano second.

"They're not human, I think we can just assume that all our assumptions are pointless from now on."

"Terrific." Claire sighed looking around and picking her feet up with a grimace as they came away sticky from the strange goop that coated walls and ceilings here as well in the ship they'd just left.

"On the bright side, this station appears automated." He nodded, pointing her in the direction he could feel the technology centred. "That does make our sneak attack somewhat easier." He added, glancing around the corridors as she yanked the hatch open.

A blast of energy erupted and Claire being Claire neatly avoided it, he wasn't so fortunate, he stared for a second at the gaping still smoking whole that had obliterated his entire chest and felt his knees give way. It didn't hurt, not immediately, not until it started to heal, then he grit his teeth and tried not to scream blue murder as Claire vanished into the hatch with a returning blast of fire.

"Sylar!" she called all of thirty seconds later, there was no concern lacing her words, it was mostly irritation he noted somewhat annoyed as he slammed his head back against the bulkhead to prevent himself from screeching as his lungs re-inflated. Why was it that the healing was always so much worse than the actual injury?

"Give me a god damn minute woman." He snarled, drawing in shaky breaths as he ran his hand over his newly healed over skin, before attempting to stand on shaky legs. Sylar stuck his head in the hatch and took in the unusual scene with a frown. Claire was standing over a still, very much alive Roach, her weapon in what was definitely it's mouth, whilst what had clearly once been his buddy dripped down the console behind them.

"We're taking prisoners?" He asked raising a questioning eyebrow at her.

"Actually this one threw his weapon down. I took that as an 'I surrender' gesture." Claire cocked her head observing the Roach as she lifted her foot to press down on what on humans would have been the chest. But it didn't seem necessary, the ugly thing was just lying there, pincers and limbs still.

"Coward?" Sylar shrugged, "Guess every species has them."

"Useful potentially." Claire glanced at him with an expression he struggled to read before realisation dawned.

"You want me to what?" he frowned, "Examine it?"

"We've never been able to examine a live one before. I think we should remedy that." Claire added and a grimace twisted her features. "Open its skull and do your thing."

Sylar raised both eyebrows that time and merely stared at her. Why hadn't he thought of that?

"I'm assuming it will get far less accommodating once I start a lobotomy." He pointed out coming to stand beside her and stare down at the still creature.

"Can't you pin it with telekinesis?" she snapped, clearly irritated that she was having to think of everything.

"Not especially no. Their brains are different to ours, they seem for the most part immune to mental abilities." Claire rolled her eyes in response.

"How about trying the old fashioned method then." She glared at him pointedly and he sighed, before stomping over to the work stations and wrenching free a piece that didn't look too crucial. Holding his hands wide the metal began to come apart at his command in mid air, glancing at the Roach darkly he unleashed the metal at it, the slivers sailed through the air and sunk through appendages, its torso, legs and anything that didn't look like it would kill it immediately. The Roach let out a high pitched keening that had his sensitive hearing in overload, he felt like he wanted to vomit his head reverberated so badly.

The sound stopped abruptly and he glanced up to find Claire holding a bloody chunk of flesh in her hands, there was a matching gaping hole in the creatures throat; he'd of been impressed but they had more pressing issues. The appendages which were razor sharp were attempting to snap free and he focused all his strength on keeping the metal embedded in them through the deck.

"Hurry the fuck up!" she snarled, grabbing his arm and practically shoving him at the creature. "If there was any more, they'll have all heard that." She spun pointing her weapon at the hatch, her attention divided between him and it.

He worked quickly after that, raising his finger he sliced open the cranium, an appendage tore free and lashed at him, before being obliterated by a shot from Claire. He glanced at its remains twitching beside him before returning to his task, he peeled away the skull and exposed the brain... well at least one of them, he assumed he wouldn't learn as much from the hind brain in the spine at any rate.

"It's still alive." Claire pointed out and he spared a glance at the twitching creature. He didn't look up, not sure what expression would be on her face, after all, she of anyone knew exactly what it felt like to have someone carve open your skull and probe it, without losing consciousness.

"Does it have to be alive for this?" she asked after a few seconds, confirming his suspicions as to where her memory was taking her.

"It would help." He muttered apologetically, more for her benefit than any real sympathy he felt for the creature. He risked looking at her, only to find that she was resolutely staring at the hatch, he frowned, he knew what he had done had affected her, but for it to bother her still, especially now, after all she'd been through? Not for the first time he felt a pang of regret that he hadn't chosen empathy that day to retrieve her power, but in his defence he had been bleeding to death; it had proven tricky to empathise with a teenage girl that wanted to eviscerate you.

Returning to the task at hand he sunk his fingers into the brain matter and shuddered as he felt the foreign DNA slide along his system, there was no way to incorporate it with his own... not that he wanted to, but still it was insistent. Instead he focused on the brain itself, on the connections, the control systems, learning, exploring, understanding... as only he could.

---*---

Claire watched Sylar now, turning her head in profile to see as his fingers delved into the creature's brain, her stomach clenched unpleasantly and she fought back bile. She'd been torn apart, blown apart, set on fire, broken every single bone, drowned, crushed, practically liquefied once... but nothing could ever quite compare to the horror of that day. To the feel of his fingers over her skull, in her brain, there had been no pain, but that hadn't mattered, it had been a violation and it had all felt so desperately intimate that even now it haunted her. She raised her weapon, half considering putting the creature out of its misery, fortunately Sylar sat back on his knees and wiped his fingers on what was left of his ruined armour, with a grim expression on his face. At least he wasn't smiling, she might have felt inclined to shoot him to if he had been. He raised his hands and grasped the Roaches neck, he gave it one sharp turn that snapped its neck and it fell blessedly still.

Forcing down her distaste she crossed to him, after all, it had been her idea she was just as responsible.

"Did you find anything?"

Sylar raised his eyes to her and she froze momentarily, his expression looked practically feral, his eyes danced and she reflexively gripped the weapon more tightly, ready to blow him apart if he so much as twitched; she recognised that look all too well, the hunger had him.

The expression faded and he nodded, "Yes." He gasped and as she watched a shudder seemed to pass over his entire body. She couldn't help it; her hand went down to his shoulder and squeezed supportively.

"You did well." She told him with quiet intensity.

"Then why do I feel so awful." He muttered and she removed her hand from his shoulder.

"Because apparently you are human after all." She'd meant it to sting, but his shoulders slumped and she wanted to claw the words back, after all, it was just the two of them, ex-monster or not.

Sylar ignored her, sliding to his feet and moving over to the consoles. "I understand their language." He replied finally after beginning to press buttons, but his voice was oddly flat. "And other things." He added a little darkly and she spared the deceased creature a glance, wondering just how much he'd absorbed of that thing.

"Your still you... right?" she asked pointedly, pressing the barrel of the weapon between his shoulder blades. She honestly couldn't think of anything worse than a Sylar/Roach hybrid.

"Worried about me?" he smirked and she narrowed her eyes.

"No, about me. You're not going to sprout talons or something?" she snapped, wanting an answer rather than that god damn smirk and blank eyed look.

Sylar glanced back at her, his dark eyes seeming to hold her. "DNA is incompatible, all I got were fragments." He shrugged turning away, "Nothing that will affect me." Claire didn't lower the weapon for a few seconds, but as usual he seemed supremely unconcerned by its presence at his back. He'd always been a cocky bastard she noted, lowering it and coming to stand beside him, watching as his hands flew over the buttons with unnatural assurance.

"Thank you." she told him quietly, he quirked an eyebrow, but otherwise gave no indication he was listening; she nodded assuming he'd accepted it and tried to follow his movements. Eventually she gave up, it was incomprehensible to her, there wasn't even something that remotely resembled a keyboard.

"I give. What are you doing?" she pressed.

"Taking advantage." Was his curt reply and she frowned.

"Of what?"

"They don't seem to understand deception." Sylar replied pausing momentarily to stare at her, before resuming his button pushing.

Claire frowned and moved over to a view port, they were moving again, the ship she could see was still attached to the station, and the whole thing seemed to be drifting closer to the huge ringed planet that seemed to take up the expanse of the space before her.

"So what are we doing?" she called out, "Trojan horse?"

He chuckled and she thought there was something maniacal in it. "Exactly."

An hour passed and Sylar remained pushing buttons resolutely, Claire stared up at him from her seated position on the floor, her gun dangling loosely from her fingers. "Sylar." She began wearily. She wasn't used to him ignoring her, it was down right creepy. "Talk to me... I need a plan, something."

His hands stopped, hovering over the keys, before he finally turned to look at her, crossing his arms, she noticed his fingers were still twitching, as if attempting to press buttons even now. A flash of concern for him left an unpleasant taste in her mouth, he'd been inside a Roaches mind, it's DNA however incompatible had clearly latched on somewhere.

"Killing them. That was the plan... yes?" He bit off staring back at her a little blankly, the old intensity that normally shone out of his eyes seemed to have vanished.

"That was the plan." She nodded.

"Then that's what I'm doing." He frowned, as if she were incredibly dense, it instantly set her hackles on edge.

"Yes... how?" she prodded, feeling like she was drawing blood from a stone.

"Turning their own weapons against them." He replied after a moment's hesitation. "They can't lie, the mental link stops it, they don't even understand the concept."

"So there is a hive mind?" she pressed, pushing herself up to her feet, not enjoying the additional height advantage it had given him over her.

He shrugged and her temper flared. In a second she was moving across to him, he still didn't move, not even when she was inches from him. Her expression darkened, there was something wrong. He cocked his head as if observing her, it was an oddly alien movement and she felt ice settle in her stomach.

"Sylar..." she breathed, taking another step until she was brushing against him, "Who am I?"

He frowned, but the expression seemed to speak volumes, but it wouldn't do to panic, it wasn't something she was prone to doing at any rate. Her hands rose slowly until they slid over his, carefully she pulled his arms apart, all the while he watched her with mild interest, but otherwise made no protests. A sound like the hum of energy filled her ears and she glanced across to the porthole in time to see a cackle of energy racing along the hull of the ship, forming a single beam that shot out into space. There was an explosion without sound, but she felt the shock wave rock them, and the incredible flash of light that seemed to vanish as though sucked back into the nothingness of space. Craning her neck she watched as another vessel that had been approaching was left as nothing more than floating debris.

Trojan horse indeed. They were still moving though, whatever he had done, apparently it required no further input from him.

"Sylar." She tried again, refocusing her attention on him, but his eyes seemed blacker than usual, wider... Without hesitating she let her hands brush along his chest and up to his neck, pulling the back of his head down as she lifted herself up onto her toes. "It's working, whatever you've done is working." She told him, her lips brushed his as she spoke and his whole body seemed to flinch at the contact, but she didn't relent. "You need to let it go, whatever the hell it is that's going on inside your head, I need you to let it go."

His head cocked again and his eyes refocused on a position over her shoulder, he was stiff, she could feel the tension pooling between his shoulder blades. There was nothing for it, she crushed her lips against his, trying to snap him out of it. But his lips were unresponsive, if anything he grew more rigid, it was like holding onto a plank of wood.

"Jesus Sylar, what the fuck did you do!" She snarled; pulling away from him, she damn well knew there was no way in hell he'd willingly ignore her throwing herself at him. "Fine." She hissed, "If you don't like seduction... let's see how you do with aggression, you never could decide if you wanted to fight me or fuck me." Her fist connected solidly with his jaw and his head snapped round, she waited, poised, but his head just whipped back around and he continued to stare at that point over her shoulder. Rolling her eyes, she pulled back her fist and hit him again, same result.

"Gabriel, you stubborn son of a whore." She swore at him delivering a knee to his midsection that doubled him over, there was a flicker of something on his face and she couldn't help but smile, it was barely a twitch, but it was something.

"My father was right, you are nothing but a coward, a sick momma's boy with delusions of grandeur." His knee splintered with the force of the impact of her foot against it and he collapsed to the floor without so much as a grunt of pain, she took the opportunity and pounced on him. Reigning blows down onto his face, his hands batted at her lightly and she continued, watching his eyebrows knit together with increasing intensity.

"You raped me." She spat at him, delivering a blow that shattered his jaw, "And you enjoyed it, you sick fuck!" she continued, watching as his head snapped around and the jaw slid back into place. Her hand raised again, but his arm shot up, blocking it and grasping her wrist. "I never loved you." she drew her face inches from his, "Who could love you, you're a monster." He caught her other wrist and his lips drew back into a snarl, but the eyes were still dead.

"Poor sad Gabriel, unloved, unwanted, never satisfied." She taunted, finally something flashed behind his eyes and she held her breath, the force of the impact collapsed her ribcage as she sailed into the bulkhead with a resounding crack. Raising her head she watched with some concern as he climbed to his feet, he still looked unnatural with his arms seeming to hang loose at his sides, but when he raised his eyes to her, it was most definitely the monster she knew behind them. "Pathetic." She spat at him, tasting blood and not caring as her chest repaired itself.

He stalked forwards and she didn't move, his hands grasped her shoulders and he lifted her up off the floor like she weighed nothing, slamming her back against the metal, until he was right in her personal space. Claire clenched her fists, resisting the urge to simply retaliate, she could break his hold, break him... but that wouldn't help the current predicament.

"I'd never love you Gabriel, not if you were the last man on Earth... oh wait, you are," she smirked and his fingers gripped around her throat tightly, cutting off her air. Her eyes fixed on his, trying to hold that unfathomable gaze as the force of what could only be another explosion rocked the station. But his grip never lessened and she needed her voice to bring him back, her head wrenched forward and slammed into his, breaking his hold and dropping her to her feet.

"You were the worst fuck I ever had." She threw at him in desperation... there. The flash of hurt on his face was like a god damn revelation to her...finally. "What were you... a 600 year old virgin?" his knuckles whitened as he curled his hands into fists.

"Ungrateful bitch." He whispered and her face split in two with the grin she couldn't contain, she'd never thought she'd see the day she'd be grateful to have the old Sylar back.

"Monster." She countered and his whole face twisted into something unpleasant, but she couldn't care less, so long as it wasn't blank. Because apparently, being alone, felt a hell of a lot worse than being with Sylar...

"Cheerleader." He snarled, with more intent this time and she stalked up to him.

"Ethan." She spat. The blow shattered her nose and rocked her backwards, but she didn't have chance to recover, his hands grasped her face and his lips descended over hers with bruising intensity. The whole station pitched and she clung to his shoulders to keep her balance as another soundless explosion rocked them, lighting up the portholes and reigning debris across the hull, which reminded her of that hail storm that had totalled her car back when she'd lived in New York.

"Claire." He rasped against her lips, crushing her against the bulkhead, his hands grasped her exposed flesh with desperation, had she of been anyone else she would have cried out at the pain of it, as it was... she lifted her legs, wrapping them around his waist.

"Murderer!" She hissed into his ear, biting down sharply as he slammed her back against the bulkhead again, stealing her breath.

"Claire." He managed, as his hands grasped her ass firmly, drawing her closer to him, he bit down sharply on her neck, she felt the warm, blood spill down and retaliated, tearing a chunk out of his own neck that caused him to cry out and wrench her mouth away. His hand fisted her hair and drew her eyeline back to his. He'd never looked so lost, blood dripped down his chin and she entertained the idea that she might never get him back; that she'd be alone... it left her hollow.

"Help me." He whispered as she grasped his face in her hands and tears slid down his cheeks.

"You're Sylar." She told him harshly. "You're Gabriel." She pressed a kiss to his lips, only to find they were trembling. "You're Nathan." She continued relentlessly even when his grip turned vice like, "You're Ethan." His tongue brushed hers and she felt a jolt in her stomach at the contact. "Remember." She snarled and his head dropped to her shoulder, his breathing heavy. The metal groaned with the force of another explosion, then another and another, she barely kept her footing as the whole station seemed to shudder and groan with the shockwaves.

She grasped his face. "Let it go. Just let it go." His whole body shuddered and she felt him go limp, her muscles strained and she dropped him to the floor, smoothing her hand over his troubled features she prayed that he would be himself when he opened his eyes again.


	14. Extermination

**Chapter 14:**** Extermination**

Sylar awoke with an odd sense of unease, he sat up and glanced around, he was alone, in the control room. His eyes drifted to the bulkhead beside him, a memory half formed and he pushed it away, it was too disjointed to comprehend.

"Claire!" he called out, getting to his feet, she should be here, he was certain of it, they'd been in this room together. His eyes fell on the corpse of the Roach that lay as he'd left it, neck at an impossible angle, its entire grotesque body pinned with metal fragments. Something about the Roach made his head hurt and he blinked, shaking his head and trying to clear the strange images and fragments of memories that attempted to surface.

He needed to find Claire. Spinning around the small room he darted towards a porthole and looked outside, his breath caught, they weren't in space. Instead odd orange tinted gases were floating past the window and he could see what was clearly a purple body of liquid beneath. They were on the planet, or at least floating in the atmosphere.

Frowning he darted from the room and began stalking down the corridors, he looked inwards, using little Molly's ability to find Claire once again. She was still, stationary, on the opposite end of the station. His feet left the ground and he flew with increasing speed towards the sense of her. The hatch tore apart at his insistence and he landed heavily, before glancing up and finding her, she looked unnaturally still, with her back to him, her hands pressed against the glass. He frowned and took in the room, it was clearly some sort of observation centre, the whole dome like room was see through, he stalked forwards.

"Claire?" he called out gently, raising his hand as he strode towards her, but his eyes caught sight of what she was staring at and he stopped dead, his hand merely hovering towards her in midair as his mouth opened in surprise.

"They're dead." There was something wrong with her voice, he noted despite his own shock, it sounded flat, broken.

"I... what?" his head spun around, darting from one view out of the dome to another, he stalked forwards and pressed his hands to the glass, frowning. "What happened?" he managed tearing his eyes away from the ruins of what had clearly been a city.

"We killed them." Claire replied quietly, not taking her eyes off the sight. "All of them."

"Wasn't that the plan?" he asked in confusion, not understanding her sudden change of heart.

Slowly she turned her head to look at him, her eyes were red and he realised with a start, she had been crying, she wasn't supposed to be able to still do that. "But like this?" she pointed her finger out the viewer. "My God." She sighed shaking her head. "They didn't stand a chance, didn't even have time to put up a fight."

"I don't understand?" he managed, realising with unease that he was missing large portions of his memory.

Her eyes narrowed and she moved towards him, he stayed still as her hands raised and she grasped his face, he stooped until their gazes locked.

"Are you... you?" she asked gently, her hand smoothed down across his cheek and he froze, 'when hadn't he been?'

"Yes." He rasped, the sensation of her hand brushing across his skin, then down to his lips as she traced them with her finger, it forced him to close his eyes. "I think so." He sighed as she skirted her fingers along his temples, clearly examining him. "When wasn't I?"

"You programmed the station and the ship to attack them." She explained wearily, turning away from him and releasing his face from her delicate touch, he resisted the urge to grasp her hands and place them back on his face, trying instead to focus on what she was saying. "Like a Trojan Horse, they thought the station, the ship was under their control, they never suspected anything. Kept trying to make contact with it even when it was clear it was destroying their ships. You said they didn't understand deception. Tactically it left them defenceless." She pressed her hand against the glass.

"I don't remember doing that." He told her pointedly. She glanced over her shoulder at him.

"No? Well I guess that's probably a good thing." She turned away again. "You weren't quite yourself." The way she said it made something unpleasant shiver along his spine.

"The Roach?" he whispered, "I was in its head, it's brain."

"Yes." It was simple, but succinct, that one word told him enough, the rest he didn't want to know.

"What does it say about us," she continued, "we came here with only one purpose, to kill them. We didn't offer them surrender, or mercy. We didn't even want anything from them, not their planet, or resources, we just wanted them dead." He stalked behind her and gently placed his hands on her shoulders, when she didn't shrug them off he relaxed and stepped up closer behind her, noting that she still apparently hadn't found any clothes; not that he could miss it, but he had been doing his damndest not to stare. He supposed given as she was lamenting the loss of an entire civilisation and all he could think about was how close he was to her naked ass, that it probably meant he was well and truly going to hell.

"Does it make us as bad as them?" she asked him, although he sensed it was mostly rhetorical. "Or worse?"

"They started it Claire." He pointed out. "Pretty much think that covers us in the karma stakes, we just defended ourselves."

She glanced up at him and he stared resolutely back, her eyes narrowed. "Forgive me, I forgot I was talking to a killer for a moment. I'm about as likely to find compassion from you as I am under a rock out there." She slammed her hand against the viewing window in frustration more than anger he assumed. The insinuation stung, but he let it slide, he could see she was clearly shaken.

"You're not like them." He told her firmly, sliding his hands down her arms and wishing desperately that he could just hold her, because whether he wanted to or not, he did feel like a mass murderer. "I doubt they ever shed a tear for Earth. Or the countless billions they killed."

She sighed. "I suppose not."Her hands lifted and she wrapped them around herself, pressing her hands over his. "We were supposed to die here you realise."

He smirked. "Yes well..." he trailed off, oddly grateful that they hadn't, he'd been ready, willing even to accept the end. But now... now he wasn't so sure, her fingers brushed his and he took that final step so that her back was flush against his chest. She sagged slightly, leaning back into him for support and perhaps simple human contact.

After a few minutes of silence Claire broke it, "Do you still know how to read their language?"

Sylar frowned. "I could read it?" he questioned and she snorted in amusement.

"We can't stay here." She told him pointedly, slipping out of his grasp and turning to stare up at him. "I guess we resort to plan B." He frowned, he didn't think they'd made one. "We go back to Earth." She elaborated, looking about as thrilled at the idea as he was. "And I guess we take as many ships as we can, get them docked to this station like you did the last one and fly them back with us, rescue the survivors."

Sylar raised his eyebrows in surprise. "Really?"

"What the hell else are we supposed to do?" She muttered. "Do you really think you can live with it... if we just left them all to rot?"

"There will still be Roaches there Claire."

"So we kill them." She snapped, apparently having forgotten her earlier distress over exterminating their entire race, but he wasn't fooled, her hands were trembling.

"It's your call." Sylar sighed, "You're the one with the conscience." He muttered, turning away from her to make his way back to the control room.

Cliare didn't rise to the bait and he heard her falling in line behind him as he trudged through the goop on the floor, trying to keep his feet from sticking.

"You do realise if we rescue them, they'll be stuck on these ships... I don't see how that would be any better than on Earth."

"Just shut up." She muttered and he rolled his eyes, clearly she didn't want to be second guessed, it would likely just remind her that neither of them had particularly wanted to be here to see the end... or the fallout.

Sylar examined the console and found with some mild surprise that he could indeed read the symbols now, he frowned, pushing buttons, the operating system was nothing like a human computer, but his hands seem to know what they were doing so he let them.

Flying back to Earth oddly enough didn't feel like going home.

It felt like giving up. Claire was silent, sitting staring out of a porthole as he continued examining the alien systems and information, trying to take in as much as possible.

"They were a little like us I suppose." Sylar spoke up finally, not able to take the silence anymore, but she didn't turn or give any indication she was listening, he continued anyway. "At least as far as I can gather." He sighed at the irony of it, "Overpopulated, too many mouths to feed, over polluted, they stripped their own planet bare of natural resources. Who knows, in a few years, maybe we might have even become them, willingly stripping another planet for what we needed to support our own burgeoning population." He shrugged trying to ignore the horrified look she'd turned on him. "I just think it's ironic."

He continued examining the logs, trawling through the data before he saw something that made his legs go weak and his gut clench. Sylar stared at it fixedly feeling his mouth go dry, if he'd been at these controls before, there was no way he wouldn't have noticed that... and yet he remembered nothing. A part of him tried to squirm away from the data, the urge to push it away, to keep his mouth shut was overwhelming, and he blinked, trying to shake the compulsion.

"I think I've found something." He managed to choke the words out, feeling his head buzz and his teeth gnash together with the effort. Claire glanced back at him from her positions and he examined the screen and the symbols once more, just to be sure, his stomach felt oddly heavy, Claire's ability usually kept him from throwing up, but his insides were certainly trying to give it a shot. But he needed to tell her; he'd never been more certain of anything.

"Maybe you should just give it a rest. I don't want a repeat of what happened last time." She told him coolly.

He frowned, still not able to remember that. "There's a list of planets in here." He told her whether she thought she wanted to know or not, deciding on the easiest first, for both her and for his still buzzing head. "Planets with resources like Earth, with iron, oxygen, nitrogen, plantlife, natural gas, ozone, water." Claire turned back to him finally and gave him an appraising stare. "It's a possibility." He shrugged at her unspoken question, "It would be better than rotting on these stinking ships anyway." He muttered, not liking the prospect in the slightest.

Sighing he left the console and instantly her shoulders seemed to relax, he frowned, had he been so bad before that simply seeing him at the consoles had put her on edge? He crossed to her and squatted down beside, steeling himself for her reaction, the buzzing in his head became almost deafening and he squeezed his eyes shut drying to drown it out, he reached out and grasped her wrist, the buzzing seemed to recede and he opened his eyes.

"I found something else. I'm not sure you're going to like it, but I don't like lying to you; we've had enough of that between us." He smiled softly at her, but Claire's expression wasn't softening; what he needed to tell her wasn't likely to help, he kept the grip on her wrist as the buzzing increased another notch and his tongue felt heavy. Acting on instinct he leant forward and caught her lips with his, she pulled away sharply, her eyes widening, clearly now she wasn't about to die, she wasn't in the mood to humor him. Either way, he had never been one to give up easily and after what he'd just read, he really didn't care anymore; he leant forward again until their lips were inches apart, her eyes dropped to his lips, but she didn't back away and he didn't close the distance. "I love you… you know that." He told her pointedly and her eyes locked on his, although what she was thinking he had no clue, her green eyes had long since stopped reflecting her inner thoughts.

"Now isn't the time for this." She turned her head to the side, avoiding him. He sat back on his knees and stared at her, the buzzing in his head increased to a roar and it seemed like the information in the data logs was pushed to the back of his mind.

"Claire. It's the end of the world!" he pointed out darkly. "When the hell else is there?"

"Exactly my point." She bit off still not looking at him, and he clenched his fists trying to reign in his tempter, only Claire could be that god damn stubborn, to reject him even now, after everything.

Maybe it was spite, but he grabbed her chin and dragged her head back round to his, the anger that lashed him seemed to overwhelm even the buzzing and he forced the words out of his lips wanting to hurt her with them. "We didn't kill them all!" He snarled vindictively, shattering any illusions she might have had that this was over. Her eyes narrowed.

"What?" she hissed.

"We killed one world." He snarled, dragging her face closer to his, "One stinking Roach infested world." A shadow of something flickered in her eyes and he released her, "There are dozens." Her head dropped and he felt suddenly wretched, to him she would always be the soft, sweet girl he'd craved. "It's worse." The buzzing returned as his anger ebbed and he shook his head futilely trying to clear it.

"I don't want to hear it!" She tried to pull away from him, and the rejection fuelled him again; he hated her for suddenly turning into that soft little girl, when he needed her to be the warrior.

"They were just the patsies." Claire froze and her wide eyes met his.

"Stop." She insisted, her fingers tightening over his and beginning to crush them, the contact of her fingers continued to spread the rage, that lashed through him, but at least the god forsaken buzzing was pushed back.

"A slave race, gatherer's… they're nothing more than strip miners. They were conquered thousands of years ago, the resources they gather aren't just for their planets." Her hands shoved at him but there was almost no strength in it, he caught her hands deftly and gripped them, to prevent, or at least attempt to prevent her trying again.

"You son of a bitch!" She snarled, he couldn't tell which was stronger, her evident anger, or the despair that was etched into the non-existent lines on her perpetually young face.

"You couldn't just let me believe it was over could you?"

"No." he snapped remorseless. "And you would have only hated me if I had. As always, I'm damned if I do, damned if don't with you." He threw her hands away from him and shot to his feet, for the first time in his life, not wanting to see her face.

The silence stretched between them, of course there was nothing to do to occupy their time, and he refused to look at the console again, the echo of the buzzing had receded for now, but he got the impression it was far from gone.

"When we get to Earth." She spoke up finally, her voice strong and unwavering, "We take out the Roaches there." He didn't bother turning around. "We find every single human being that's still breathing and we get them on board the ships. Spread them out evenly so that if we lose one we don't lose the entire human race." There was grit in her voice and he realized that whilst he had been staring blankly into space, she had been planning.

"And we don't tell them what we found out." She'd moved and he hadn't realized, so when her hand came down on his he had to suppress the reaction to flinch. "We don't tell them." She said more insistently and her hand raised to his face, smoothing along his cheek and forcing him to look down at her. "Agreed?"

He stared pointedly at her face, feeling something of the old Sylar rattling the cages of his mind, urging him to press the issue, to force the advantage, to manipulate now that he had leverage. Instead he swallowed it for now and turned away from her.

"You're the Commander." He muttered finally "I'm just the weapon."


	15. Saving Civilisation

**Chapter 15: ****Saving Civilisation **

There was a nagging sense of unease in Sylar's gut as he destroyed the final vessel, Claire's point blank refusal to even look at him might have been having something to do with it, but then, he wasn't exactly giving her the usual undivided attention she was used to from him... or anyone else.

The reception on Earth was everything he expected, a heroes welcome, which in the midst of a crumbling world still trying to recover from the last acts of violence the Roach's had unleashed, was really quite something. Claire of course had taken control of gathering the survivors. All 348,011 of them, mostly military, mostly male; there were only about 27% female and somehow 613 children had crawled out of the ruins of civilisation. Sylar watched with trepidation as they filled the 8 vessels and 1 station that he controlled, he wasn't used to responsibility, not like this, to actively be in control of this many lives, the entire human civilisation. It was almost a heady thought, before the weight of it threatened to crush him. But there was no one else, there was always the chance he could teach someone, Claire most likely given she would certainly have the longevity to make it worthwhile, but it did give him a unique position. He was vital suddenly to their survival, a hero in his own right.

Hero. He'd always hated that word, even as a boy he'd often pondered the strange existence of a hero, their foolishness and stupidity, the rules they were forced to live by and how it left them weak, the sheer expectation of it all.

Better to be the villain he'd always thought. There was never anyone to disappoint that way.

Claire was the quintessential hero, he sat back listening as the 'new' Council discussed their plans, 30 men and women, most Generals or engineers, there was even a couple of scientists in the mix. No one that could have been classed as a politician like in the days gone by, they had no use for people like that and the war had been cruel to the human population, only the strong, quick witted and the lucky had survived… or the useful. It was an odd clash of personalities. But they all had one thing in common, they all seemed to be looking to him and of course to Claire for answers and guidance. The irony of that had made him laugh for a good half an hour; Claire didn't seem to find it quite so amusing.

He had told them in no uncertain terms that he had no interest in leading anyone anywhere, or being responsible for said lives. He'd drive the ships, keep them running, and that was that.

Claire had accepted that of course, seemingly relieved that the human race wouldn't have to look to him for guidance, but the Council had been less keen on his attempt at removing himself.

Sighing he tried to shut out the sound of their voices as they argued. It had come up, just as he knew it would, they were worried about repercussions, that maybe there were more Roaches out there, that they 'd missed some of them, that any survivors would come looking for revenge. Claire was handily deflecting such talk with careful lies that remained deliberately vague, but answered enough to put them at ease. He almost admired it, accept for the fact that the whole thing made him squirm. It seemed pointless to him to lie to them, why let them float into the deep darkness of space with hopes and dreams that might be crushed in an instant? The enemy was still out there in their billions, not to mention the new enemies… But Claire was adamant and for once he shut his mouth and let her have her way, just like he'd agreed, he just didn't have to be civil about it.

But life on board the ships was hard. They had taken some reworking to make them fit for human habitation, he'd found that fire worked quite well at destroying the sticky residue that coated every surface, and it managed it without frying the internal circuitry. They'd scoured the Earth for every scrap of food, material, and anything else they could find that would be of use. The engineers had even managed to convert some of the larger open spaces on the ships into big artificial greenhouses that would provide food and oxygen for the human population.

But the hardest thing was seeing her… everyday, with that God damn, Derek. He'd hoped that they'd reached an understanding back on that ship; that Claire might have come around to understanding his actions. Certainly at times she seemed softer towards him, but then she'd say something, or he would and they'd be right back at each other's throats, and she'd still be in that lumbering oafs arms.

He could have been petty, it would have been so easy, all it would need is a couple of carefully chosen words, the right push here and there, and he could have convinced people in the right places that if he didn't get what he wanted, the human race would be stranded. But he hadn't reached that point yet, although people certainly seemed aware that the threat was there, every day it seemed new people were wheeled in front of him, in the hope that they might succeed where others failed and actually have an inkling of aptitude for the alien technology. No one ever did.

It was fortuitous in the end how it happened, they hadn't been in space long, barely a year, before it became apparent that their population was dwindling and that more extreme methods were needed to keep it alive. They called an emergency meeting, Captain Derek and Claire attempted to keep the peace whilst he watched, bemused by the whole thing, how they couldn't have foreseen this, he'd never understand. He'd seen it almost immediately, the moment he'd realized that around 35% of the population of 'survivor's' had been injured, or carried some sort of sickness. They'd lost already 15% of the already pitiful population of children; most had been dying long before they'd gotten on board.

The measures were simple, every fit and healthy individual was required to pair off and produce offspring, then they would rotate and produce more. It was elegant in its simplicity, after all they had the space, they even had the food and water, what they lacked was the population. Of course no one was exempt from this rule, and given that no one who had survived was over child baring age, it seemed straight forward.

He would never forget the way the Council had attempted to broach the situation to Claire, the look on her face when they demanded that she, given as she was immortal and could potentially pass this ability on to future generations, would pair up with as many men as could conceivably impregnate her.

He already knew the answer, saw the expression on her face, he almost felt sorry for the poor hapless General that was standing closest to her, his face would never look quite the same after meeting her fist quite so savagely.

Not that he disagreed with her sentiments, it had been somewhat callous of them after all, to not realize that Claire's ability utterly prevented her from conceiving a child, let alone carrying it to term. They'd assumed, in their own foolish way, that because he had her ability and he had been able to successfully father a child, that the same would be true for her. Idiots. He'd unleashed a bolt of electricity at the same hapless General on her behalf as she stormed from the circular room.

But it did give him one moment of pleasure, to see the heartbroken look on Captain Derek's face, after all, he was fertile and it was his duty to find a young woman, several in fact, to bear his children and keep the species alive. That woman couldn't be Claire.

For his own part, he'd lied. He had zero interest in continuing the species, at least not with his particular afflictions. In fact he couldn't think of anything worse than bringing a child into this pitiful existence. So he'd informed them with no small amount of glee that the woman he'd managed to impregnate had been 'special'. That the chances of finding that again within the limited human population remaining were remote, which meant that he, like Claire, would regrettably not be able to participate.

The search for a planet to settle on became the main drive of their entire civilization, pity then, that every planet they arrived at was so utterly inappropriate, or completely unable to support them. He held out a hope that of the thousands in the database, one would be found, but fuel was an issue that he had refrained from mentioning. Another concession he'd made to Claire and her policy of 'need to know'. The general population seemed to be under the impression that the engines would go on indefinitely. The two of them knew better, but apparently it wouldn't do to tell them that they had only at best guess 25years to find a planet.

The Roaches were long lived, it was something he'd discovered, they could also survive cryogenic freezing… which was how they'd traversed the great distances between worlds. So far his every attempt to preserve living tissue inside the cryogenic chambers and successfully defrost them had failed, the human body just wasn't equipped for it. Which left him in the rather unpleasant situation of having to conceal the fact that not only where the human race a dying civilization, but that they only had another 25years to find somewhere or face extinction. Add to that the constant threat of the Roaches hunting them down… which he also wasn't allowed to mention.

He hated responsibility, and keeping that particularly secret was a responsibility of the worst kind.

Claire at least was seemingly finding the secret as difficult to deal with, more and more he would arrive at the control room, only to find her seated there, legs crossed, up on the console, absorbed in the data stream, she unlike most, was finding more of an aptitude for it. But then she was unable to forget, which did facilitate learning and he imagined that the constant threat of what they faced was acting as a good incentive.

Although sometimes he suspected that she was merely hiding away from the ever burgeoning new generation that seemed to be spilling out into corridors everywhere. Last he'd heard Derek had a whole brood now, from several different women and he couldn't have been happier.

"Back again?" he mused sliding up to her chair and placing his hands with careful intent on her shoulders.

"Where else would I be?" Claire snapped, not taking her eyes off the screen and leaning forward so that she slid out of his grasp.

"Oh I don't know, how about one of the eight other control rooms on the eight other vessels, that are just as well equipped to suit your learning curve as the Stations." She ignored him and he smirked, sliding to sit on the console beside her, he could be hard to ignore if he wanted. It hadn't escaped his notice, nor hers he imagined, that she remained on board the one vessel he couldn't leave.

"How's Captain Derek and the children?" he enquired deliberately pressing the issue to get a rise out of her. But after three years of this she was clearly becoming immune to his needling.

"Fine I'm sure." She replied, not removing her eyes from the screen, she hadn't even tensed this time.

His eye twitched and a smile tugged at his lips as he wondered if perhaps she'd finally gotten over the marine? There had been something he'd been meaning to broach with her for a while, there didn't seem like a better time than the present, after all, she needed him, the whole species needed him, it wasn't like she could toss him out an airlock for suggesting it… he hoped.

"Claire." He began and she tensed now, her hands dropped to the console and she gave him a half look that was far too shrewd for his liking, so far all he'd done was say her name.

"You've got that tone." She noted sharply, and he smirked, pleased that he'd made enough of an impression now that she could read him so well. His grin only seemed to unsettle her further.

"Out with it." She snarled, her temper had only being getting worse he noted, whilst he thought he might actually be beginning to get a hold on his.

"Well I've been meaning to mention it for a little while now, but it didn't quite seem the right time." Her lips pressed into a thin line and she watched him intently, her hands curled into fists… so much for finding her in a receptive mood. "There's a possibility you could have a child you know." Her mouth parted slightly and she took a very small, very subtle intake of breath, most people would have hardly noticed, but then he wasn't most people.

"Don't start." She bit off, but there was a tremble to her voice that was unmistakable.

"Oh I'm not bating you this time, I'm quite serious." He replied, reaching out for her hand, it was a mark of just how much his line of conversation had surprised her that she didn't pull away. His fingers curled around hers, pulling her hand into his lap as he traced his thumb over her palm. "If a baby is what you wanted of course, I personally can't think of anything worse than bringing a child into this… given what _we _know." He insinuated and her expression wavered, becoming almost pained, she was clearly torn, apparently it had occurred to her too.

"How?" she whispered, sounding for all the world like she was waiting to be told all she had to do was sell her soul to the devil... close.

"Me." Her hand shot out of his and she backed up out of the seat, putting three paces between them. For his part he remained motionless, just like you were taught to handle a wild animal, although he couldn't resist making eye contact.

"No." she told him, clearly seething, but not looking entirely surprised.

"Yes." He smirked. "It would work, and I'm sure you've already given it more than a passing thought."

"Never." She glared defiantly back at him, that hand going to her hip as if to prove a point.

He shrugged. "I have your ability, specifically yours. I'm fairly certain that your body wouldn't destroy the embryo carrying your genetic signature, or the sperm for that matter."

She raised her hand to stop him, or ward him off, he wasn't sure which, but he noticed the tremble to it with mild apprehension. He'd known she'd resist, it was just in her nature, but she looked positively appalled. Had he judged it wrong… he was certain she would have given anything for a child?

"You've been waiting to spring this on me haven't you?" She seemed to be pulling herself together visibly, he watched as the jaw shot out in defiance and the sneer appeared marring her perfect features.

He shrugged. "Like I said, I wasn't sure you'd be receptive to the idea, I thought it best to wait."

"You don't want a child." She snapped pointedly and he quirked an eyebrow at her apparent observational skills.

"Not particularly no." he replied, examining his nails, as if there would be anything wrong with them, thanks to her ability they didn't even grow beyond the clipped length he'd had them when he taken it from her. He risked looking up and found her frowning back at him. "But if it was what you wanted…" he shrugged, he wasn't going to confess his undying love for her again, once had been enough, besides he was certain she was fully aware. Irritating and down-right hateful that he could be to her, it didn't change the fact that he loved her, it was just fate, they were a pair and that was that.

"I don't think I can." She replied quietly and he studied her face, to comprehend the complex emotions he saw warring there.

"Don't think you can with me… or in general?" he pressed, wanting to be sure before he committed another portion of his soul to hating his love for her.

She turned away from him presenting him with her back, which only irritated him further. He slid to his feet and stalked towards her, waving his hand so that the hatch slid shut and sealed, he didn't want to be disturbed right now, nor did he want her just storming off. Three years with her on this ship, the last year or so in such direct contact, had taught him enough to know that when she couldn't hit something, she would avoid it.

His hands landed on her shoulders and she didn't seem particularly surprised, she didn't even attempt to shrug him off, instead her head dropped forward and she sighed deeply. Sensing weakness he pressed.

Sylar's hands slid down, brushing her ribs, until they came around her small waist, the skin tight clothes she wore leaving little to the imagination, even though his gave it a shot. Lowering his head he heard her breath hitch as he blew air across her ear. It had been a while… he knew, after all he had eyes everywhere, not that anyone else was aware of the fact that there were cameras, of a sort. But he knew that she hadn't been with anyone in 2years, not since Derek had abandoned her to 'do his duty'. Nor had she taken the idiot back when he'd come begging earlier this year. Most people hadn't understood her refusal, but then most people didn't understand Claire like he did, callous though she could seem, unfeeling sometimes, hard even; she was at heart that girl who remembered simpler times, when husbands and wives had children, where love was enough. A more romantic time he supposed.

But she was a woman, and a beautiful one at that, he knew she had quite a sexual appetite, or at least she had; 'Ethan' had proven that, after all it hadn't taken much encouragement on his behalf to get her on her back.

Baring that in mind he pulled her against his chest, letting her feel just how much he still appreciated her, even after all this time.

"For such a remarkable woman Claire, you can be so dense." He hissed into her ear, biting sharply on the lobe for effect, the pressure, if not the pain seemed to make her tense. "How many women do you think would refuse a man that has pursued them for the better part of 670 years?" She attempted half heartedly to slide out of his grasp, but he'd been practicing his hand to hand combat techniques, and he managed to keep her in the circle of his arms, ending up with a fist full of her hair and his knee pressed into her spine. He pulled and she arched back into him with a dark glare that only made him instantly hard for her.

"Love isn't supposed to last forever Claire… nor is hatred." He mused and she looked away biting her lip in a way that he remembered fondly. "But apparently ours has." He eased his grip slightly, so that he could slide himself closer again, until she was facing him, it was a risky position, but as he slid his hands along her jaw to cradle her face, he considered it worth it for just the way her lips parted fractionally. "That means something." He pressed the issue, lowering his face closer to hers, praying that for once in his life the thing he loved wouldn't reject him.

"That fate's a cruel bitch." She muttered and he smirked, brushing his thumbs along her jaw in a way he knew she'd appreciated, he was rewarded when her eyes closed and her neck tilted back fractionally.

Sylar leant closer, wanting to close his eyes just so that he could fully appreciate the scent of her as he inhaled deeply, but he needed to see her face, needed to see every reaction. His lips brushed hers and she took in a shuddering breath. "We were good together Claire," he breathed, "You can't deny that, I dare you to tell me that any man could satisfy you the way I did." Her eyes snapped open and he smirked at the way her pupils had dilated, her hand slid to his waist and slid up along his chest, he tensed, expecting a fist, or a claw, instead it flattened out and she merely held it there. But there was no telling how long he'd have to make his case, and he was so close, he could feel her resistance crumbling.

"Ethan wasn't all a lie Claire… remember how he made you feel, how I made you feel," he pressed his lips to her jaw, crushing her closer to his chest in a desperate attempt to keep the moment. "I love you." He rasped reminding her of the one unequivocal truth between them.

Her eyes opened and he knew he'd lost it.

"Except I don't love you." He closed his eyes and clutched her tighter refusing to concede.

"You don't want to be alone forever Claire." He hissed, clawing at any excuse now, and clutching to the one he knew always stung.

Her head was crushed against his chest, he could feel her lips moving as she spoke and he tried to exert his will over her, tried to force them to close, to keep whatever hateful thing she was going to say at bay.

"Better alone, than with you."

His whole body shuddered and he clutched tighter on to her, as his entire nervous system resonated with the force of her lie. The smile that split his lips was so painful that he couldn't help but laugh; a loud roaring sound that burst from him and seem to startle her. He didn't need to tell her she was a liar, didn't need to tell her he'd always known that this was how he'd win.

Sylar grasped her face and crushed his lips over hers; her answering savagery told him that she already knew. Claire Bennet, the great Commander, humanities hero… couldn't bear to be alone.

He slid his hands beneath her, trying to hold her writhing form against him, when all she wanted to do was tear chunks out of him. It was like kissing a jackal he decided, all teeth and claws, strangely enough it didn't seem to matter to him, he answered back with everything in him. When he slammed her heavily down onto the floor and she shredded one of his only three remaining shirts, he didn't give her time to think about it. He barely managed to get her out of her skin tight trousers before she tugged on him sharply, he grit his teeth and tried to loosen her grip. But this was the price of having her; it was always going to be on her terms.

She flipped him over and pinned his hands at his wrists, or at least she attempted to, he wasn't gentle with her this time, it wasn't what she wanted, and if he was honest, it wasn't what he wanted either. The young woman he'd made such tender love to was gone forever, all that was left was this wild, dangerous, impossibly broken, beautiful creature above him.

Sylar shoved her hands away and grasped her breasts with bruising force, using his hips to buck her closer, her once soft fingers grasped him and he hissed in a strangled sound as she slammed herself down and buried him deep inside her tight heat.

It was everything he remembered, and worth waiting a handful of lifetimes for, just to see the way her whole body arched, with her head thrown back and her mouth parted, those emerald eyes squeezed shut. He bucked and her eyes flew open, latching on to his, he couldn't hold back the smirk, knowing instinctively that he had already found her centre. He pushed himself up into a sitting position, cradling her on his lap as he slid his hands along her back, not willing to give her control of this, or to have so much of his body out of contact with her.

She tried to move and he pinned her hips in place, lowering his head to savor a nipple, laving it with attention, but whilst that might have worked on the young Claire, _this _Claire wasn't so easily distracted, her inner muscles contracted sharply and rhythmically around him, causing him to pause and clench his jaws together. Her hands clasped his face, nails dragging across the stubble on his cheek as she sucked intently on his bottom lip, he got the message… this wasn't foreplay it was a fuck, it was all she'd give him.

So he obliged her, slamming her around onto her back he drove into her relentlessly, grasping her legs he hooked them around his arms using them to keep her in the position he wanted. Claire cried out when he hit a spot inside of her that was more pain than pleasure, he increased the speed and depth of his thrusts, trying to keep himself under control as every pulse of her inner walls threatened to drag him over the edge. Her breathing was hard and fast, the flush that he remembered crept along her breasts up to her throat, he buried his head in her neck, listening to the sound of her pulse pounding beneath the delicate skin as his teeth brushed it, before soothing away the non-existent marks with his tongue.

She moaned something incomprehensible, but he didn't need to understand her words to know what her body needed, he increased the angle and drove deeper, harder, finding that spot again and again, until her nails popped through the skin on his shoulders in her attempt to contain her scream. He bit down on her breast deliberately and she let out a keening sound that had her arching and thrashing beneath him, the effect was so powerful that he shuddered violently unable to stop it as he spilled inside of her with explosive force; he thought he might have actually seen stars… or black spots. Either way, he was left panting and grunting like some sort of caveman, unable to even move as he collapsed over her small, equally limp form.

Sylar let out a strangled half sob sound he hadn't realized he could make and wrapped his arms around her still form, he hadn't thought anything could be better than their first time, but this was infinitely better… because it was _him_ this time, truly him. It didn't matter that they were here, on this god awful ship, moving ever closer to humanities end… not if he was allowed this, allowed her.

Almost softly Claire's hand went to the back of his head, brushing strong but delicate fingers across the nape of his neck. It took him a moment to realize that he was crying… or at least tears were escaping his eyes and splashing across her cheek and neck.

"Please." He begged, he'd never begged anyone before, never lowered himself, but he begged now, not releasing her from his grasp as he softened inside her. Her fingers continued brushing the back of his neck, sending shivers down his spine. "Claire." He gasped, trying to put everything he needed to say into that one word that seemed to define his entire being. Raising his head he met her unflinching gaze, praying that for once it would soften, that her lips would curve into _that_ smile for him.

"We can try." She replied quietly, he dropped his head to her forehead and let out the breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. It wasn't undying love from her, it never would be and he knew absolutely that a part of her was always going to hate him. But she did need him and he'd take whatever he could get from her.


	16. More Than Human

**Chapter 16: More than Human**

Claire sat idly stroking her stomach, it was fractionally distended and every now and again there would be a jolt from inside of her as something shifted. The data stream failed to hold her attention, and Sylar wasn't around to bicker with. Stepping out on to the decks occurred to her, she wouldn't have minded going down to visit the greenhouses, she missed dirt and plants, not quite as much as she missed the sky, but still, the greenhouse was something. And she unlike most people had a free pass to go anywhere she damn well pleased.

But along with that came the other issue, she'd always been famous, well known, ever since that time in the late 22nd Century when she'd taken a stab at being a singer. Sylar had informed her once, what seemed like eons ago now, that she hadn't been half bad, high praise indeed from the man that had decided anything she could do he could do better. She smirked at the memory of him with his hair slicked into the style back then and the god awful metallic clothes as he belted out his own hits, in a voice which sounded suspiciously to her like a famous rock star from the 20th Century.

Fame now was different she mused, picking at the non-existent fluff on her synthetic clothes, fortunately the material it was made of wasn't likely to wear out or degrade any time soon. Now fame was linked so closely to hero worship that she felt ill just seeing their sycophantic, hopeful faces. If there was a new religion, she and Sylar were it. The Church of heroes. Only they weren't heroes, no, she'd never associate Sylar with that word, and she certainly didn't feel like applying it to herself, not now that she was carrying around so many secrets. Secrets with the power to destroy everything the human race was trying to build as it drifted further and further away from the little blue planet they'd called home.

She winced and clutched her stomach, waiting with baited breath for the moment the bump would vanish... it didn't, and she relaxed slightly. It wasn't the first bump, she didn't like to call them anything else, not after the 3rd one. Sylar... rat bastard, she mused, he hadn't been wrong, there had been a chance for the two of them. But it was so god damned small she wasn't sure why she even bothered to keep trying. The bump shifted again and she repeated her actions, holding it firmly, trying not to hope. The bump remained. Blowing out air in frustration she stood. This would make it 13 attempts, 13 times her freak show of a body had the chance to do the one and only natural thing it should be able to.

Her feet carried her out of the control room and she kept her eyes fixed ahead, she found it better if she didn't make eye contact with the ones that hung around the control room hoping to catch a glimpse of either her or Sylar. She dreaded to think what kind of life the bump... she cut off that line of thought in its prime and thought instead about how the corridors needed flaming again, she'd have to get a couple of people in to sweep the Station. They could keep the sticky secretions at bay, but they could never quite erase them, they were just a part of the design.

A large man with sharp blue eyes passed her and stopped, back tracking to fall in step with her, she frowned and looked again, stopping abruptly when she realised she hadn't even recognised Derek, he had stopped coming to Council meetings years ago, and she barely showed up nowadays; she just couldn't stand the lies.

"Derek." She managed, his smile was unmistakeable and he stood there, looking almost shy.

"Commander." He nodded, his eyes scanned her face, and she wondered if he was looking for a wrinkle to match the hundreds on his own face. 20 years on board these god forsaken ships had not been kind to him she realised uneasily. It was so easy to forget the conditions, because her body needed so little help, she could go without food and water if she had to for a fairly extended amount of time, her teeth never rotted and her hair no matter what she attempted remained glossy; vibrant and long. In contrast he looked like a man that had been meant for great things and had somehow wilted under the weight of that expectation, she realised with a sinking feeling, he was a man that should have died in battle, instead of being dragged along on this pointless crusade to die old and shrivelled in the black nothing of space.

"You're looking well." She lied.

"I look like shit." He muttered, not in the least bit amused by her apparent condescension.

"Seemed rude to point it out." She shrugged and continued walking, to her annoyance he kept in step with her. It had always been something she was prone to doing, pushing people out of her life when they reached that point where she could no longer deny that they would die of old age... and she wouldn't. She passed a young woman who's head dropped and she started muttering under her breath, Claire kept moving, it happened every other day now.

"Their praying for you, you know." Derek informed her, she gave him a sharp look and her lips twisted in distaste.

"As long as they aren't praying _**to**_ me." She muttered and he smirked, looking away, some of the old Derek creeping into the expression, before he raised his head and hard eyes met hers.

"13th isn't it?" He indicated her bump with an incline of his head, and she picked up the pace, noticing the small group of children that were staring at her wide eyed as she breezed past. It was far too common to see them like that, left to their own devices, half of them probably didn't even remember the adults that had given them life. They were taken care of though; she'd made sure of that when she'd noticed the trend beginning nearly 15years ago, but parents were almost a quaint idea now, children were everyone's responsibility, especially when people had so many.

"Yes." She replied trying to keep the bitterness out of her tone as she came back to his question. "But I hadn't realised people were keeping count."

He snorted. "Claire people take note of your bowel movements and how many times you chew your food, brush your hair, or blink... I think there's a list circulating somewhere." She gave him a sharp look that told him to drop it, not needing to be reminded.

"People need a new hobby." Not that they were likely to find one out here.

"Probably." He agreed, "Not much else to do though is there." Echoing her own thoughts eerily.

Claire stopped abruptly and he had to side step to avoid crushing her, she crossed her arms and stared up at him shrewdly. "Derek I'll be blunt you haven't stopped by for a chat in 12 years. As I understand it you made vessel 3 your home. What is it you want?"

He gazed down his many times broken nose at her and crossed his own arms. "Actually we like to call it Darwin; not Vessel 3." Claire blinked and tried to not laugh, she understood why they persisted in naming the ships, it made them feel like homes. But to her it was a ship, a tomb, and she hadn't been here long enough to think of it as home at any rate, but then she'd been alive too long to consider most places she didn't stay at least fifty years home.

He sighed. "My oldest Vince, he's got an ability."

Claire paused, not that it was unheard of for people to have abilities, in fact many of the survivors seemed to have an inclination towards it, which was probably how they'd survived at all.

"I'm listening." She tried to ignore the pang and the subtle shift of the bump... it would be her oldest too, if it lived.

"Look, he's bright and he's real good with languages, almost seems to have this knack for understanding things, whether its machines, people..." he trailed off at her look, which she attempted to arrange into something other than horrified, it sounded eerily familiar.

"Go on." She insisted, feeling the bump move again, no doubt responding to her sudden tension.

"Well he seems an ideal candidate to set up in the Station, to get him behind one of those data streams, he caught a glance of one in Darwin's control room, said he reckoned he could understand it." Derek finished looking so proud that she could almost dredge up the feelings she'd once hoped to share with him.

"And your coming to me because?" she asked pointedly. "Send him to the Council, set up a meeting with Sylar to screen him with the other potentials." She turned away and was surprised when he caught her bicep and spun her back around.

"I have, and they did." His eyes were sharp again and she realised as she glanced down at her bruising, forever unfeeling arm, that he had forgotten himself in anger. "Sylar told them he didn't have it and sent him on his way."

"Then Sylar was probably right." Claire replied, detaching his hand from her with a minimal of effort, trying to keep her voice even as she digested the unpleasant news, they'd need to watch Vince. Once upon a time having someone like him would have been useful, now it was a liability, there were too many secrets in those data streams, and with so little time left....

"Vince said the whole thing was jibberish, the stuff Sylar put in front of him... that it couldn't be translated, because it was just jibberish anyway." There was a definite note of accusation in his voice now.

"If you have something to say, say it." She hissed, holding her breath discreetly.

"Sylar's lying. That son of a bitch is keeping secrets, keeping the Station, hell the entire human race under his own god damn control. He fails everyone Claire, no one can read it but him... and that's the way he likes it. What will happen in fifty years time when all our generation have died off? I bet people won't even remember that they were supposed to try and read it. It'll just be him, in control."

"And me." Claire reminded him and his eyes widened a fraction, as if he had almost forgotten. "It'll be him and me in control you mean." She couldn't keep the frostiness out of her tone, not when he was so dangerously close.

"Right, you and him." He grit out through his teeth. "What exactly is that Claire? Last I knew you hated him, and looking in your eyes now, you still do. What did he say to get you to lie back and take his seed?" Clearly time and a family hadn't let him forget what they could have shared... if she hadn't been so deficient, so damaged.

Her fist curled but she kept her temper, at least whilst they were in a corridor where anyone could see. Beckoning with her finger she stepped inside what she realized uneasily was an observation dome. He gave it a cursory look before following as she slid the hatch shut. Instantly his whole demeanour seemed to shift, suddenly he looked larger, stronger, his back straighter, more like the marine she'd known and cared about half his life time ago.

"I trust Sylar." She told him abruptly, cutting the expression of relief off his face, clearly he'd expected some grand reveal behind closed doors.

"Bull!" He snarled. "No one trusts that slimy bastard. They adore him, worship him, half of them are scared to death of him, they need him, but they don't bloody trust him."

"And me?" she asked sharply, sensing a shift in him, if he was going to open up then she was going to press for everything she could, after all she wasn't stupid, even she'd realized that increasingly she and Sylar had been out of the loop on Council matters, mostly by choice, but still.

"You're you." He snapped glaring at her like it was somehow an accusation.

"Ice queen?" she ventured, "Cold unfeeling bitch…" she smirked, fully aware of her reputation.

"Desperate." He hissed and she flinched as though he'd struck her.

"Careful." She warned; placing a hand on her hip and sliding one leg back, ready, something about this was setting the hairs on the back of her neck on edge.

"You're desperate for a child… the one thing you can't have Claire. And surprise surprise; the one man that won't touch another woman, won't even look at them, when everyone knows full well he could have had hundreds of gifted kids by now, well he's the only one that can give you one." His lips twisted into a sneer. "Only he can't."

"Can't yet." She clarified. "But he's a damn sight closer than anyone else."

"Anyone else?" Derek snarled, taking a step towards her his hands curled into fists that she noted and adjusted her position fractionally. "How the hell would you know? Did you try anyone else at all Claire?"

"Don't be a fool." She warned.

"I'm not Claire, but are you? For god sakes there is an entire generation of twenty some things, half of them have abilities... have you tried any of them?"

Her expression wavered fractionally and he smirked at her, she didn't appreciate the expression.

"He's manipulating you." He snarled. "It's all the hell he ever does. Sylar wants to keep you for himself, screw the rest of the human race and what it needs."

"You've given this a lot of thought." Claire cut him off before he could build a head of steam, sensing this was about to become a rant. "Who exactly have you discussed this with?"

"A few people. Concerned folks like myself. Sylar is a danger to us, to you, it needs dealing with."

"Ah." Claire replied; pressing her lips together in a thin line as she stalked towards the viewing window, coming to stand, staring out at the bright nebula vibrant in reds and blue's as it drifted past.

"Because you think he's lying to you, keeping secrets?" she reasoned, feeling something leaden in her stomach that the bump seemed to helpfully kick every now and then.

"Yes." Derek snapped, sounding smug.

"What if I told you they weren't his secrets." He took a sharp breath and she cast a look at him over her shoulder, "What if I told you they were _ours_." His expression darkened, "Mine actually." He looked confused and she didn't blame him.

"I don't understand." Derek admitted, although it was hardly necessary, it was painfully apparent to her that he really didn't, even now it seemed he wasn't capable of seeing the worst in her.

"I forced him to lie." She turned back to look at him fully now, crossing her arms as she leant against the viewer, enjoying the coolness of the material on her back even through the clothes. "Sylar doesn't honestly give a rats ass about the human race… at least not in the way you or I do. He cares in that he'd be alone, or that I would. But he's very much a survival of the fittest kind of guy… being from 'Darwin' I'd have thought you'd appreciate that sentiment."

Derek's eyes were wide and she couldn't help but shake her head at him, clearly he'd been in his own little insular bubble for far too long on that ship.

"He was perfectly happy to tell you all the truth, watch you tear yourselves apart with the truth of it… the despair." She admitted "But I insisted we keep the truth hidden."

"Despair?" he asked almost breathless.

"The Council was right when they first asked us about retaliation… revenge." He looked a little blankly and she remembered that for him it had been 20years, his memory wasn't as infallible as hers. "We lied when we said the Roaches had all been destroyed." His mouth opened and his breathing seemed to stop. "We destroyed one planet… out of dozens, maybe even hundreds. We didn't even realize that they weren't even the real threat, turns out they're the dregs of their own society, the bottom of a very unpleasant food chain. We've just got lucky in that we've never met them or their friends yet, but it's only a matter of time I'm sure."

"People could handle it." He managed almost spluttering, clearly he wasn't handling it.

"Maybe." Claire shrugged. "But I doubt they could handle knowing that they only had 5years left either way."

His expression hardened. "Why?"

"Because that's how long Sylar said our fuel will last." She sighed, watching as the lines on his face became even more engrained with the expression of pain he managed. She'd missed that, a man that reacted in a 'human' way. Because it was painfully obvious to her now that she and Sylar were starting to slip into another rhythm, something more or less than human, she wasn't sure which was worse. Added to that there were Sylar's other little... slips, which had only gotten worse with time. The bump shifted and she tried not to dwell on it, she'd often wondered if what she was carrying was entirely human anymore, if that was why they failed time and time again.

"Fuel?" he asked dejectedly, hanging his head and bringing her focus back to him and the unpleasant task at hand, "God we've been idiots." He muttered, "We thought…" he trailed off looking at her for help.

"Yes we know, everyone just assumed because they didn't understand the reactor technology, that it would last… well at least last longer than 25years." Claire replied trying to soften her voice, after all, she'd had 20years to get used to the idea, Derek was getting all this dumped on him now. "And Sylar can be quite persuasive, it wasn't hard to convince people everything was fine, they wanted to believe it so badly."

"So the search for planets… was that fake too?" he pressed looking heartbroken.

"No, that was real, and there are thousands, literally. Sylar and I have been selecting the ones most likely to support human life… and those closest, trying to fit as many in as possible." She replied keeping her eyes on his face, waiting for the flicker of rage she saw there to become something full blown.

"We've only been to 14 worlds." He whispered and his voice cracked on the last word.

"I know." She sighed wearily. "And there are only 3 more we can conceivably reach, before we run out of gas."

"No." he whispered and she saw his eyes seem to deaden at the idea that his family might drift hopelessly.

"We won't last long, people won't suffer, the fuel reserves account for the life support as well, it's not like we'd just be drifting forever like that, we'd suffocate, or freeze to death." He didn't look thrilled at that and she frowned a little at just how easily she'd learnt to accept it. Almost like she'd been waiting for it... for a 'real' death for the last 20years, if not the last 700.

"Why did you do all this?" he asked and that flicker of rage finally spread.

"A fool's hope seemed better than none." She shrugged. "There was always a chance we'd get lucky."

"You gambled our entire species on that?" he spat stalking closer to her.

"They would have perished on Earth." Claire pointed out, irritated now, she'd never liked it when he'd questioned her orders back when they'd been a team, and she sure as hell didn't now.

"You can't know that!" he snarled. "We might have been able to rebuild, there were so few of us, so long as we were together, we could have tried, found a stable piece of land…" Claire eyed him darkly.

"No one suggested staying." She snapped, "Not once, because that was even less than a fool's hope. I did what I thought was best for our survival… me, because no one else would take the responsibility."

"You had no right." He hissed through grit teeth.

"That's as maybe, but what's done is done." She replied, refusing to apologise for the impossible situation she was placed in… she'd never asked to hold humanities survival in her hands.

"We've got to tell people, try and make arrangements." He muttered almost to himself, he moved as if to brush past her, she couldn't let him.

"No." She told him coolly.

"You can't stop me Claire." It was as though he'd forgotten her, forgotten who she was, what she had been, forgotten that whilst his body was growing old and decrepit, hers had not.

"That's Commander." She pointed out tilting her chin up to stare at him defiantly, giving him one last chance to remember, to come to his senses, to fall in line.

"I'm leaving." He dismissed her turning his back. She had a split second to decide... to choose, her hands moved and she tried not to think, not to listen as they slammed into his spine, pitching him forwards. His legs stumbled, and she swept up behind him, her hands catching his neck as he dropped. One sharp movement and it was done. The sickening crack bought bile to her mouth, she glanced down at her stomach and coughed up blood, as Derek's limp form slid to the floor.

Her hands shook as she held them trembling over her now flat stomach... before once again her eyes fell to Derek, his eyes open staring at her accusingly. Two lives gone, snuffed out in an instant.

"Sylar." She called quietly. There was no need to shout, no need to do anything else, his ears were always pricked when she called and she knew he had monitors to keep tabs on her and others. There was a feint pop and he appeared in front of the hatch, his frown increasing as he looked between Derek's clearly dead form, and her now flat stomach. Raising her head and knowing that blood was dripping down her chin, she shook her head trying to hold in the despair and embrace the creeping numbness that threatened.

"Did you know he was asking questions?" she asked him with quite intensity. He ignored her question and stepped over Derek as though he were nothing more than a log. His hand flattened out over her stomach and for a second she saw the flicker of regret on his face. She pushed his hand away sharply and nodded at Derek. "Answer me."

"Yes I knew." He replied, "Particularly after his sons interesting screening with me."

"Was..." she paused "Is Vince like you?"

Sylar fixed her with a penetrating stare. "Nothing so advanced, but there's definitely an aptitude for intuition there."

"We need..." She placed her hand on the back of her mouth, they needed to kill him too, feeling bile rise again at the thought, she'd never wanted to be a murderer, a soldier was different, they killed because that was war, but this, this was cold, clinical. This would be killing a young man for nothing more than what he _might_ find out.

"I'll take care of it." He replied quietly, sliding a hand around her lower back, in what he clearly thought was a soothing gesture. She accepted it for a scant moment before sliding out of his grasp and standing over Derek.

"We will need an excuse, something realistic." She indicated his snapped neck, there wasn't much natural about that.

Sylar cocked an eyebrow and she darted out the way as the body quite literally disintegrated at a click of his fingers. She didn't look up at him... didn't want to know what expression he'd worn when he'd used that particularly vile ability to destroy the evidence of her crime. If that's even what it was... she was protecting the rest of humanity wasn't she? Wasn't ignorance better than knowing the dreadful truth? It sounded hollow to her, she knew first-hand the corrosive power of lies; she'd never forgiven her father his... even if they had been to protect her.

Sylar slid up behind her but for once refrained from touching her. "I'm sorry." He told her with enough sincerity that she couldn't help but look at him, his features were definitely reflecting something close to troubled...

"For what?" she managed uneasily, "Derek and his son... or the bump?"

Sylar stared down his long straight nose at her, his eyes were unfathomably black today and she shuddered, clearly today was one of his less lucid days, when something other than the man lurked in them. Over the years she had merely learned to accommodate this new quirk of his, avoiding him at such times, only stepping in when he slipped too far beyond the realms of merely human.

"Both." He replied; blinking, his eyes cleared briefly and she watched confusion surface before the black re-emerged. He'd never be rid of it she realised; he'd lost one demon in his hunger that had slowly abated; only to find another in the mind of a Roach she had forced him to carve open. Perhaps guilt was why she persisted with this odd arrangement of theirs, because she wasn't sure it could really be called a relationship, even though at times, even she could admit, he'd been a comfort. It was better to have a warm body to hold when the crushing doubts and despair set in, or when the bumps vanished leaving only blood and emptiness in their wake.

"I have to go." She told him quickly, wanting to put distance between this room and Sylar, "I need to inform the Council that Derek and his son are missing." She gave him a look that gave him permission to go take care of that little detail, but he didn't vanish as she expected, instead his hand whipped out and grabbed her wrist.

"Shouldn't we try again?" he pressed, glancing down at her stomach. Claire swallowed and shook her head firmly, the blank look he levelled at her twisted her insides just at the thought.

"Not right now." 'Not when you're not yourself', she acknowledged silently. His eyebrows knit together in confusion, which seemed to give way to the 'nothing' she loathed almost more than his customary smirk. "Soon." She added, before turning and making a hasty retreat, sliding the hatch closed and sealing the truth away. Like all secrets they wouldn't stay buried forever... but then she only had to hide them for 5 more years.


	17. The Pretender

**Chapter 17: The Pretender**

Sylar watched quietly through the monitor in her room, Claire was still, her hand absently brushing her flat stomach, he wondered if inside she was crying? He switched his view to the Council rooms, they hadn't believed either of them about the deaths, right now they were discussing what could be done about their... 'immortal' problems. He scanned a few other monitors and finding nothing of more interest, returned to watching Claire.

He remembered the events in the observation room a few days ago, but they were detached, he couldn't summon or even remember the emotions he knew he was supposed to associate with the images in his memory. He recognised the symptoms though, Claire's concerned features as she'd backed away from him quickly made it apparent. He hadn't been himself that day. There was no way of telling if the episodes were becoming more frequent, he had only Claire and her reactions to him as a guide and whilst spending more time with him now than she ever had, he often got the impression that whilst physically being there, she wasn't always '_with'_ him.

Her hand brushed her stomach again and drew his eyes. They'd been closer this time than ever before, she'd managed 5 whole months. Something stuck in the back of his throat and he cleared it quickly not sure why the idea struck him so profoundly. They had only 5years left. But even 5years with a child of hers... theirs, it would have been something. But he couldn't dwell on it, wouldn't let himself, she'd never appreciated it when he'd tried to talk about the miscarriages as such, it was likely she wouldn't let him touch her for some time, if again. His fingers rose rubbing his temples as he attempted to push the buzzing away, there was a simple trick to it... think of Claire, in anger, in lust or love, it didn't much seem to matter, any emotion with her face attached to it was enough.

He bowed his head and tuned in once more to the Council as he caught the words they were throwing around, 'air-locked'... that sounded ominous. Glancing over he realised that they were truly considering it, after all this time, with very little evidence; they were contemplating murdering there would be saviours. There were arguments; some of the younger members seemed more convinced than others that they needed freedom from such oppressive control. Those that remembered Earth, remembered what they had done, and how much worse it had been, they were a harder sell. Although it seemed more out of fear than anything else that they argued. After all, without him, there was no one else to drive these boats.

Then there was Claire, he shook his head smiling ruefully, about Claire there was true confliction, they didn't believe they could kill him without killing her; that she would oppose them; but killing her seemed a step they couldn't conscionably take. He smirked was it possible even now she would be his salvation? Would she really fight for him?

Her miscarriage was mentioned, yet again, the idea of her trying others was thrown about and his features twisted at just the thought of one of those barely pre-pubescent young things touching her; that they might give her what so far he had failed to. As she drew his eyes once more, he realised uneasily that the idea of them succeeding wasn't entirely horrific to him... not if it could make her smile again.

But like most of the human race, even these desperate people, were all talk. They did nothing, but it left a bitter taste in his mouth, just because they were all talk didn't mean it wouldn't lead to something more.

Sometimes he hated the human race, in fact he often wondered if Claire was the only human being he actually liked, and half the time he wasn't sure exactly why that was. It wasn't like they got along, it was more liked shared experience, understanding, history and their inevitable future; it helped of course that she was the only person in the world that had seen the very worst of him and it hadn't cost her, her life.

But Claire had been avoiding him lately, even more so than usual after one of 'their' miscarriages, because he refused to let her believe that she was the only one affected by them. Doing his best to keep his eyes fixed on a point ahead he managed to avoid the majority of the pathetic dregs that clutched at him, he swore they were getting worse.

For the first time in years, he crossed the threshold onto another vessel, seeing him leave the Station seemed to be creating quite a stir; but it didn't take a genius for them to associate Claire's unusual departure from the Station, with his. He hated being quite so predictable, but if she wouldn't come to him, he'd damn well have to go to her, of course he could have teleported but he tried to limit those trips to once every couple of months, or years. For whatever reason he found the more he used that particularly ability, the harder it became and the more severe the headaches, whether he fully healed after it or not.

Of course he knew where she was, as if he couldn't, he was acutely aware every minute of every day where she was, particularly if it wasn't with him. He kept expecting her presence to begin to irritate, like too much of a good thing. Only it never happened, if anything his obsession deepened, they didn't share a room, or a bed, but it didn't matter, he always found a way to watch her sleep, or climb in beside her and as of the last 7years she'd stopped kicking him out. He considered that progress.

The small greenhouse in Eden opened out before him and he frowned, there were better, more natural greenhouses for her to visit back on the Station. A noise perked his ears and he felt his blood boil, his hand reacted without his consent and the hatch slammed shut sealing it.

"Oh God." A young male voice groaned and Sylar felt something unpleasant coil inside of him as he strode forwards.

They weren't aware of him, even Claire... which was saying something, but then he supposed she was a little busy, his breath caught as she impaled herself on the cock of the young man writhing beneath her. His instinct was to lash out, to tear them apart, to shred the young man for daring to touch her, but the look on her face gave him pause and he froze mid step, hand risen towards them. There was no enjoyment there, all he saw, etched into every line on her face, was pure, sheer, desperation. Sylar closed his eyes and dropped his hand. She needed this.

For the first time he let his gaze fall on the young man and he stared in quiet surprise, he was a relatively thin, dark haired, young man, with a heavy set forehead, the resemblance almost floored him, then there was the way he was staring at her like she was a Goddess come to life. He knew that expression all too well.

But the poor boy was clearly in-experienced, barely 18 by the looks of him and so over excited that he'd come almost the second she slid over him. That wouldn't do. Perhaps he was going soft, but he couldn't let whatever it was happen like this. Stalking forwards, the young man saw him first, his eyes widened in surprise and fear and he froze, his grip on Claire's waist going tight in terror. Sylar slid to his knees and slid his hand around her, shirking off the boy's hands. Claire bowed her head, almost as if expecting him to punish the boy...

Sylar grimaced and stared over her shoulder down at the boy who looked for all the world like he wanted the floor to envelop him.

"What's his ability." He breathed against her ear and she stilled, not embarrassed in the slightest by their still joined bodies. Sylar trailed his hands down her back, and across her flat stomach, remembering who much the swell of it fascinated him each time.

But the boy answered for her, his voice stuttering over the words as he tried not to make eye contact with either of them. "I... I can... copy abilities... one at a time... Sylar Sir." He dared to look back then and the piercing look he met him with, drew the feral grin onto Sylar's lips, the boy flinched.

"So you thought you'd try Derek's suggestion." He reasoned, placing a kiss on her forehead. "What were you going to do Claire, if it worked... pass it off as mine, what with the dark hair and the ability?"

She met his gaze unflinching. "Yes. I thought you'd stand less chance of killing it that way."

Sylar felt his eye twitch at that, even after all this time... "Claire." He sighed, his fingers tracing down her cheek to her lips. "I would never kill something of yours."

Her expression was oddly blank but he saw the flicker of surprise cross it before she turned away. Sylar slid behind her and glared down at the young man, raising his hands to palm her breasts. "This poor bastard is going to need help to fuck you though, clearly you didn't explain that he needs to be inside you before he spills his load." He could do this, he just didn't have to be pleasant about it, and this little shit would get the brunt of his ire.

"I... I should go." The boy stammered, trying to detach himself. Sylar held his hand out and slammed him back into the deck.

"Oh no, it's not polite to come and run." Sylar snarled at him, causing the boy to cringe away. "In the old days it was customary to let the woman reach that point too."

"Sylar." Claire began, and he tightened his grip around her waist, pulling her naked back flush against him.

"Don't Claire." He snapped, "You need this. So I'm willing to let you have it. But don't push me."

Claire sighed and leant forwards, focussing instead on the terrified young man pinned beneath them. "Kiss me." She instructed him, at least the boy had some sense, Sylar noted, as he glanced up at him first, almost begging for permission. Sylar rolled his eyes and nodded imperceptibly, trying not to watch as their lips met and the boy groaned deeply into her. He knew how that felt too.

Claire slid off the boy with easy grace, and gripped his flaccid member firmly, drawing a shuddering breath from him. Sylar couldn't merely watch, if this was the moment Claire got what she needed then he'd damn well be a part of it. His hands drifted along her spine, trailing kisses down it, he reached her ass and grasped the firm cheeks greedily, drawing her back against his hips, letting her feel how much he wanted it to be him beneath her.

"Touch my breasts." She bit off sharply and the young man complied, his clumsy hands squeezing and rubbing across her as he tried to continue kissing her. Clearly he was overwhelmed, but as Sylar glanced between them, he apparently didn't lack for stamina, he was already hard in her hand... not that most men wouldn't be, but still; it was something he supposed. If this little snot was going to be the father of her child, he needed to have something going for him.

Sylar couldn't help himself, and it seemed as if the young man wasn't going to help her out, his fingers slid along her aching folds and she arched against him, pressing back until he could slip the digits inside of her. He pulled her more firmly against his hips, letting her grind against his erection whilst he thrust his fingers with more insistence, but the young man's distracting breathing became heavier and he pulled out sharply, pushing her forward, until she hovered over him. Claire needed no more assistance, recognising the signs just as he had; the sound the idiot boy made as he slid inside got on his very last nerve and electricity sparked across his fingers, straight into Claire, who shuddered, but made no comment. Luckily for the brat, she stilled, running her hands over his chest, she leant close to his ear, telling him to take in long breaths, to think of something other than what they were doing.

Sylar snorted, the boy wasn't going to be able to manage that... he hadn't even managed that. Not to be outdone and seeing that without help Claire was never going to remember the experience of making her child as anything other than a cheap fuck. He slid his hands around her to drop between her legs; he ignored the feel of the young man's cock sliding beneath and focused instead on her, on drawing out those sharp breaths he knew she could make. The young man lay beneath her his eyes screwed shut, whispering something quietly to himself that Sylar chose not to hear. Sylar slid up right behind her and pulled her head back onto his shoulder, catching her jaw with his free hand he drew her head up to his and kissed her as thoroughly as he could manage, trying to make her forget that she wasn't fucking him. His hand dropped to her breasts teasing them as he worked his fingers against her clit furiously in time to the way her hips bucked beneath them.

The young man's voice seemed to startle them both, "I love you... I love you... I love you." Claire paused and stared down at him, her mouth parted, breath coming in sharp pants as she came around him. The young man let out a keening sound and bucked furiously, a look of delirium on his features as he slumped back against the ground.

Sylar gave him 10seconds to enjoy it before he wrenched Claire free of him, her hands went up catching herself on the floor as he flipped her over, tearing himself free of the restrictive pants he plunged inside of her with abandon.

The young man scuttled away and sat with his back pressed against the nearest wall, watching them eyes and mouth wide, from his undignified position. Sylar couldn't care less, as far as he was concerned the little prick was nothing more than a sperm donor now. It would be Claire's child... and he'd be damned if she tried to cut him out.

"Sylar." Claire gasped as he grew more aggressive, he smirked down at her, crashing his lips over hers, biting until she responded in kind. He thrust violently, trying not to think about the bastard sperm that were already inside of her, already stealing his thunder. They both came so violently that it didn't surprise him when he turned around to find that the young man had fled. Smart then, that was something too he supposed.

But it didn't work for them the first time... or the second and third. He endured as she fucked the hapless, increasingly cocky little bastard, endured it until the 20th time, when the bastard had the nerve to take her up against a wall, kissing her furiously, and telling her that he loved her. Sylar's eyes had met hers over him, and he saw the plea there, the quiet desperation that simmered there so often now as she clutched her precious Vito to her, her legs still wrapped around his hips, his butt clenching as he thrust into her. Sylar saw red and he stalked forwards.

"Don't." Claire held her hand out as if too ward him off, "Don't you dare take this from me." She snapped, anger flooding her, it might have worked if the bastard hadn't chosen that moment to push her to orgasm, spilling his unworthy seed inside of her. He grasped the young man by the back of his neck and flung him away from her like he was a rag doll.

Vito flipped up to his feet and met him with a dark look that had Sylar raising an eyebrow too, in surprise.

"You don't need him Claire. We don't need him. I can give you what you need. I can take his ability, do everything he can do!" Vito exclaimed, Sylar smirked and gazed over at Claire, who was watching the young Vito shrewdly, but not particularly surprised by his outburst, saddened perhaps.

"So that's it, is it?" Sylar barked out a laugh as the boy stood straight, naked and proud, meeting his gaze firmly, it was almost laughable just how much like Peter he seemed right then. The hunger he'd suppressed for so long flared at the thought and he itched to tear the little pretender apart. Claire's hand clamped down on his wrist and she caught his eyes, there was an imperceptible shake of her head and he watched as she stepped forward, hand on her hip.

"You think gaining Sylar's ability would make you his equal?" she asked him quietly and the young man flinched, as if she'd struck him, Sylar's smirk grew. "That you could take his ability and overcome the demons that come with it. Absorb the rest of his abilities and what?" she pressed stalking towards him, "Would you take responsibility for the whole human race." She pointed a finger at him sharply and jabbed at his chest, causing the idiot to stumble slightly as he backed away. Clearly remembering who he was facing. Vito's eyes flickered to them both, he swallowed heavily. "Fly the ships, keep them going, find us a home?" she pressed.

"Yes. I could do that." He snapped raising his chin in defiance to Sylar, before turning a softening gaze on Claire. "I'd do anything for you."

Claire rolled her eyes and threw her hands up in the air, turning back to face Sylar. "Just don't kill him." She muttered and grabbed her robe, throwing it around her she stalked out of the room.

Sylar watched her leave, watched as the hatch sealed before he turned back to stare at the young man.

"No one tells her what to do." He explained pointedly. "No one backs her into a corner and asks her to choose... at least not if you want to survive."

"She loves me." Vito snarled back at him, his anger clearly getting the better of him, Sylar almost felt sorry for the boy.

"No. She needs you." Sylar continued trying to explain patiently, whilst refraining from slicing him in two. "Did you think she'd become a happy little family with you after she pops out a kid?" Sylar snorted. "You're a sperm donor, nothing more."

Vito opened his mouth and closed it abruptly at the scorn directed at him. "You're just jealous that I can give her what she needs."

"Undoubtedly." Sylar nodded, pleased the brat had the balls to point it out. "Not that, that should make you feel smug..." Sylar felt his lips turn into a sneer as he stepped closer, "I'd recommend fear."

"I can take her ability permanently." Vito raised a finger to Sylar's chest as if to drive the point into his heart. "I'd be immortal too, I could be with her forever." Sylar waved his hand and there was a crack as the finger snapped. The boy blinked and stared as the finger as it refused to heal.

"I don't understand... I have your ability?" he raised his eyes looking up at Sylar in confusion.

"Yes, you do." Sylar slid up closer to him and met him eye to eye. "Funny thing is; you have to learn how to use it first. And on it's own, perfect understanding... well it's not all that special really." He extended his fingers and lifted the boy off his feet without ever touching him.

"Claire would rather I not kill the potential future father of her child." Sylar added watching as the boy began to turn a rather fetching shade of blue. "But she's gotten over worse things I've done to her. And if she'd really meant it," he smirked at the boys pained expression "well let's just say she wouldn't have left you alone with me in a sealed room." Vito's eyes widened and he struggled, trying to dredge up his empathy and steal another ability, but Sylar had so many the poor fool couldn't focus on one long enough to make use of it. He fell limp, Sylar waited another moment until he was certain the heart had failed before he let the body drop to the floor.

'What was one more death?' he decided quietly, soon enough it wouldn't matter anymore, only 2years left.


	18. Private Grief

**Chapter 18: Private Grief**

Sylar stared at the monitor fixedly and then glanced down at his trembling hands; clearly they had processed the information in front of him sooner than his brain had.

He reached out to the intercom to call Claire when something pulled at him and his hand froze. Struggling he fought as the buzzing in his head got louder, he had to win this, he realised calmly. Claire's face swam in his mind's eye, he could still feel the sting of her hand against his cheek as she'd stalked away from him three months ago on finding Vito dead at his feet. The memory jerked his hand into action and he slammed it down on the console, struggling to find his voice past the noise that beat down on him.

"Claire." He gasped out, feeling his throat constrict.

"What is it?" her voice snapped back, loud and clear and still furious.

"Help." He grunted, collapsing back off the chair and clawing at his throat, he needed to tell someone... anyone.

What seemed like deafening, drowning hours later, her face swam into his vision and her hand clamped down on his chest. "What is it?" she bit off, drawing her eye-line close enough to his so there could be no mistakes.

"There." He managed waving his unsteady hand in the direction of the console. Claire cast him a weary look before crossing to the console, her extended belly as always drawing his eyes and forcing him to bite down sharply on his tongue to hold back the rage he wanted to unleash at the thought of it not being because of him this time. The buzzing receded fractionally as the rage whipped at him and he sucked in a choking breath.

"Planet." He gasped, clutching at his throat and fighting the impulse to choke the words back. "Look... atmosphere." He managed more, not taking his eyes off the god damn bump that wasn't his and letting the rage claw back his sanity.

"Oh." She replied weakly, landing heavily in the seat and staring somewhat dumbfounded at the screen. Slowly she turned to look at him and he collapsed back onto the floor staring up at the ceiling as the buzzing was forced back into the recesses of his mind for now. He'd won this round, but he was starting to wonder if he could ever win the war against it.

"Has it gone?" she asked quietly after a few moments. He frowned, not opening his eyes. It was the first time she'd mentioned the thing lurking inside of him since it had first appeared, 23years ago now.

"For now." He grunted, rolling so that he could climb unsteadily to his feet. She wasn't looking at him when he finally turned to face her, instead the data console had her full attention, all except for the tension that pooled between her shoulder blades. Instantly he darted forwards and placed a hand there, soothing over her shoulders.

"Don't tense up." He chastised her lightly, "Even the slightest changes in blood pressure can lead to..." he trailed off, not needing to say the word miscarriage to her, he was certain it was all she ever thought about. Sighing she bowed her head and tried to take some deep breaths.

"Are you certain?" she asked him finally as the tension eased across her shoulders with his constant attention. "I mean I know how it looks, but we've seen this type of thing before. I can't go out there and tell them we've found a planet for them, if it's going to slip through their fingers the very next day."

Sylar leant forward and flicked a few buttons, uploading the scans he'd taken of the planet they were in orbit of. "I'm sure." He whispered. "And the thing inside of me was too."

Claire tensed again and he slid his hands almost instinctively down her back, brushing feather light over her neck. "Claire." He breathed, lowering his head to her ear before kissing it lightly. "We've done it... we've found a planet for them."

"For us." She corrected lightly and he stood up straight, not removing his hands from her shoulders, strangely he hadn't considered that this would be his new home too.

Weeks later, with all the tests exhausted Sylar confirmed the planet truly could sustain human life, more than that, that humanity might thrive here. Oh it wasn't Earth not by a long shot, the gravity was slightly higher, which meant that some of the very young and frail might struggle to breath unassisted. The sky was a permanently burnt orange colour... but water was still blue, plants perhaps weren't always green and some of them moved. But on the whole he thought it was a place they could adapt to, after all it was humanities one great quality he thought... to enter an environment and make it theirs.

Claire blossomed on the planet finally free of her burdens, and her pregnancy swelled, Sylar however couldn't shake the notion that this was temporary. No matter how many settlements they set up, how many ways they found to use the local vegetation for food and construction, how many incredible new minerals and materials they found... it was almost as if he was waiting for that moment that must inevitably come. That moment when they would be found, and it didn't have to happen now, or in a hundred years or a thousand, he was certain one day it would happen, and he would have to stand there and watch.

Her baby was born whole and undamaged several weeks longer than a normal pregnancy, but Claire couldn't have been happier. When she placed the small bundle in his arms he couldn't help but see her in its eyes. She trusted him with her son, Adam, in ways he'd never imagined, she let him take him out to play, let him tuck him in at night. When he called him 'daddy' she never once corrected the little boy, and for the first time in his life he felt whole. Complete. It wasn't his son, but it was hers, to him that was enough to bond them. They were almost a little family, a slightly strange one, even he'd admit, what given the tendency for people to leave gifts outside their home and the church they erected, complete with monuments in their image outside it. Then there was the fact that there were whole portions of his memory that seemed to be missing, sections of time where he felt less like himself and Claire would firmly instruct him to leave their small home for a while, or back away from her son carefully. But on the whole he thought they raised the little boy well enough.

But as he laid little Adam in the grave he'd spent all morning digging by hand, Sylar realised that no matter what he did, he was destined to pay for his crimes for all eternity. That it didn't matter if he couldn't die, because he would always be in hell. What he couldn't understand was why Claire was trapped there with him?

He caught her as her knees gave way and she sobbed brokenly against him, trying to claw her way past to retrieve the body of her child. 7 years old, and Adam's heart had given out from the infection that had ravaged his body; it wasn't their fault, not really, they had both done their best to keep him in a bubble. But it was impossible to protect a child from the environment forever. The poor boy had been born without a fully functioning immune system because Claire didn't have one to pass on to him, and lacking his mother's ability, Adam had suffered his whole life with infection after infection, Sylar had found medicine's, invented some, tried to reproduce others, used Claire's blood when all else failed. The last infection in his lungs though had been the worst and his increasing resistance to Claire's blood had been the last nail in his tiny little coffin.

Claire's whole body shook as she screamed and beat the ground, trying to make death submit to her as it so usually did. For his part all he could do was hold her and watch as people slowly backed away from their private grief. Her pain was his, her every shuddering heartbroken sob seared him and he would have given every single ability, every breath in his body if it would have bought the little boy back. It would have been easier if this was the first time he'd had to watch this play out. Only it wasn't. Every time she would make the same request.

"Go back, fix it!"

So he did, he risked his mind and his sanity tearing the fabric of space and time to try and change the outcome. Sometimes they managed months, other times years more. But the boy always died a boy, Sylar never saw the man he might become and every time he was left trying to hold her broken form.

She spun on him now, clawing at his shirt.

"Go back. Sylar please, fix it." He grasped her hands firmly and lowered his forehead to hers.

"I have... so many times Claire. This is his fate, it just isn't meant to be." He expected the slap across his face, before she dropped to her knees and curled up almost foetal beside the small grave.

Her grief was seemingly without end, Sylar waited patiently, trying to forget the life they'd had, the little boy he'd loved, before deciding forgetting only made it worse, and it only invited the ever incessant buzzing back into the front of his mind. So he chose instead to embrace the pain, and cherish the moments where his life had almost seemed normal...complete.

He stalked out across the bitterly cold land, and stopped at her curled up form. For four weeks she'd lain their and tried to die; and for four weeks he'd bought her food and water without fail, she never took anything but he had to try. Tonight was no different. He crossed with measured strides to the grave, to find she was no longer there. He glanced outwards towards the coastline, sensing her, he dropped the plate and ran, faster than he had in so long; not knowing what to expect.

Claire stood on the headland, staring out at the alien sky, looking thin and frail, when she turned, her eyes looked so black he had to wonder if there was any green left in them. He stopped inches from her, wishing he could make her pain vanish as easily as he could objects.

"I can't stay here." She told him finally, turning away from the burnt orange view.

"There is nowhere else." He added just as finally.

"There is." She sighed, reaching out for his hand; she splayed her fingers with his. "He was a good boy." She whispered, "A good son."

"Yes." He managed, through the thickness that swelled in his throat.

"But this planet is his grave... just like it will be all of theirs." Sylar sucked in a breath, shuddering at the thought that she was grieving for all of them, not just her son. Knowing just as he had, that one day even this world would not be enough to shelter them, that one day they would be found.

"They will always die Claire. No matter where we are." He didn't want to tell her these things, but he couldn't lie to her, he never could.

"Do you remember?" She began softly, staring up at him with an intensity he hadn't realised he'd missed. "Back when we were foolish enough to think that we could change history, save the world..." something tugged at her lips, it could have been irony, because he didn't think it was humour. "We had a Plan C."

Sylar frowned, raising his fingers to brush across her cheeks and wipe away the dried tears that stained them, trying to imagine why she thought it would be easier. "I remember." He admitted; recalling the conversation they'd had collapsed against a bulkhead, despairing that they could not rewrite history. He remembered his suggestions, right down to the one they'd yet to try. Return to Earth, to the past, to a point in history where humanity was safe, a quiet little place where they could live out their immortal lives... over and over.

"I want to try Plan C." Claire told him determinedly, some of the steel she had lost returning to her voice.

"That ability always comes with a price Claire." He reminded her, wincing even at the thought of the pain such a time jump would cause him now. "What if it eventually failed, we could be trapped in a point in time that would force us to watch it happen all over again."

"Then I guess we'd know a place to come." She indicated the alien world that would be humanities final home. "Maybe by then it wouldn't hurt so much." She wasn't going to take no for an answer he realised.

"We'd be leaving them." He tried one last time, indicating the small lights that flickered over the valley behind them.

"They don't need us anymore Sylar." She reached up and placed a gentle, eternally soft hand against his cheek.

"One day they might." He insisted, his fears for the future refusing to abate.

"The world always needs saving... even this one." She pointed out shrewdly. "Let someone else save it next time."

Sylar glanced down at her, it was a very un-Claire like thing to say, she was always the hero in this relationship, if she wasn't... then he didn't know how to be. Bending his head he kissed her, just to be sure she was still in there, somewhere. He could almost taste the despair, the growing apathy in her kiss, she was tired now, so tired; this planet would kill her as surely as losing her son almost had and still might.

"Ok." He told her finally, pressing a kiss to her forehead and pulling her close. "We'll go home."


	19. Cold Sleep

**Chapter 19: Cold Sleep**

They decided against telling the survivors what they were planning until it was too late; Claire doubted they could have stopped them at any rate, but she didn't want to fight them, not now. So they began to make plans.

It didn't take them long, Sylar had saved two vessels from salvage years before, claiming the need for escape vessels... just in case something unforeseen happened. The Council and the survivors had agreed, eventually. There was always a chance someone would learn to read and understand the Roach computer language enough to control the vessels without Sylar or her, so she point blank refused to leave them with zero fuel.

"Without fuel Claire, we don't get to Earth." Sylar pointed out, but without the normal sarcasm or irritation he usually would, he'd been like that lately with her, almost as though he were wrapping her in cotton wool.

For once she appreciated the sentiment, she didn't feel like being prodded right now. But thinking of Adam was too painful, so she tried not to, over the years she'd known hundreds, thousands of people, friends, family, she'd buried them all. Perhaps his death shouldn't have been any different, she'd known the day he was born, the day Sylar had taken one look at him and known as only _he_ could, that her son didn't have her ability, that she would be forced to outlive him. Maybe in time, when her grief wasn't so fresh, and the pain, just like all the others had faded with time, maybe then she could think about him.

But mixed in with her grief that at times seemed to threaten to engulf her again, was the small glimmer of thanks, thanks to the bastard fates and their cruelty, that they had let her have him at all. Of one thing however she was completely certain, Adam had been her child, her only child, she would never have, or try for another. It just wasn't fair to her, to the child... or to Sylar, glancing at him every now and then she had to acknowledge that whatever they were now, whatever they had been, he had become her family; slightly dysfunctional, mostly difficult, painful at times, but family none the less.

---*---

The answer to their fuel troubles, came to her almost like divine providence, it was after all the life support and the issue of supplies with the dismantled greenhouse that was proving the greatest sticking point, they both drew more reserves than the propulsion system itself.

"We use the cryotubes." Sylar froze, hands hovering over the console, clearly not pleased by the idea.

"We still wouldn't have enough fuel to make a return trip, they don't draw nearly as much power as life support, and certainly not for only two people compared to what we were using to keep everyone else alive... but still, we'd fall short Claire, by decades." For once she wished he'd learn to attempt to sugar coat something, or at least try for optimism, surely she of all people now, shouldn't be the optimistic one.

"Surely we don't need the engines on the whole way?" Claire asked. "The cryotubes will keep us alive, and they draw minimal fuel, all we'd have to do is blast in the Earth's direction for a short while, and just drift. It's not like we are in a hurry, and momentum will keep us going."

"We have enough fuel for 9years if we burnt it continuously, now that we don't need life support for that many people." He told her uneasily. "9years, 54days, 7hours, 19seconds." He added to be more precise. "Your right we need to get in the cryotubes." Sylar informed her, she cast a look at him and nodded bleakly, it wasn't a prospect either of them particularly relished.

Sylar was deep in thought, so she didn't press him, letting him work out what he needed to, "It only requires minimal fuel to keep the cryotubes going, far less than it would to keep life support for 2 people for the same length of time. If we use the tubes and set a short burn course, we can extend it to close to 90years." The beauty of space and it's lack of resistance, Claire sighed, they'd even resorted to drift burns to preserve fuel last time, but the urgency and sheer amount of life support and power needed to sustain the entire population had made it fruitless.

"If we drift after each burn, how long will it likely take us to reach Earth?" Claire asked uneasily, the prospect of remaining still, cold as ice, for almost 90years sounded a lot like dying.

"Best guess, barring no collisions, minimal course alterations and such... 70years maybe, pretty much three, nearly four times longer than it took to get here, longer if we're unlucky." Sylar explained, but his tone had gone oddly flat and his fingers were moving over the buttons with practiced fluidity. Narrowing her eyes, Claire grasped his hands and removed them from the console, sliding them around her waist instead whilst she grasped his face in her hands and tried to force him to focus on being himself. He paused, then let out a sigh before dropping her gaze, when he raised his eyes to hers again his grip was a little tighter, and his expression bore the concern she'd hoped to see.

"We need to set the computer to wake us." She began pushing buttons, choosing not to mention his latest lapse, but as she worked he slid his hands over hers, forcing her to pause.

"Let me." He insisted she scowled back at him.

"We have to be right Claire. I understand the systems better." Removing her hands Claire gave him the console, it struck her as odd, that she didn't even consider if he was trying to double cross her, or if there was a hidden agenda, not from him, not anymore. If anything she was concerned that he'd sabotage his own tube to save hers if necessary, and of course there was the mild irritation that after all this time, he still doubted her.

"I'll set it to course correct with a blast of fuel once every 3months." He explained and she nodded, trying not to recall his earlier tests years ago now, that showed the cryotubes couldn't support human tissue. The only successful tests had come with tissue she and Sylar had donated, but they'd never tested their whole body's revival, and certainly not after years in stasis.

But there was no other way, and she couldn't stay here. Not with the reminder, of the one moment in so long when she'd felt truly whole and happy, waiting for the world they'd built to end too.

They blasted off from the planet with only a short broadcast to the population below, telling them through the com system on the barely manned but still functional remaining Station vessel, that they couldn't stay and wished them luck. It was hardly adequate, the com had squawked violently back at them, but they disconnected it, there was nothing more to be said. Humanity had a new home; she and Sylar needed the old one.

---*---

Getting into the tube was perhaps the singularly most disturbing experience of her life, which was saying a lot. Clothed only in the skin tight temperature resistant jumpsuit, she stepped inside a compartment never designed for humans, trying not to think about what had shared the space with her beforehand. Sylar stood in front of her, the pinched expression on his face telling her that he'd already given it a great deal of thought.

Lying down on the surface she tried not to imagine what freezing solid would feel like... would she be awake, asleep, would she dream, would it be like dying? The Roach's hadn't included secondary information like that, all they had were the technical and biological aspects, and they were disturbing enough. Toxins and solvents would permeate every cell in her body, killing a human, but protecting the Roach's tissues from crystal formation and subsequent death on thawing.

"Who's going to activate yours?" she asked him as he slotted the restraints into position around her and slid the tubes into her skin with more care than someone without pain required.

But he was Sylar, even now, and he merely smirked and waved his hand, lifting a tube into the air without touching it and slotting it into her neck with as much if not greater precision than he could have achieved physically.

"Right." She muttered. Not sure how she felt about a 70year sleep, from which she might not wake; it almost sounded peaceful. A worse thought was the idea that she might wake up to a bunch of Roach's more than happy to turn her pain back on and experiment on her.

"We'll make it." He told her calmly, as he slid a tube directly under her breastbone and into her heart. She stayed still, not requiring the pressure he exerted to hold her down as it expanded worming its way into her circulatory system... missing in some cases, not that she could tell, but Sylar's expression spoke volumes. It wasn't going to be as easy for him, he'd feel every missed avenue, every exploratory route the tubing took in their 'alien' bodies.

When he was done he spared her a glance before backing away, preparing to close the tube.

"Wait!" She called to him and he did. "Kiss me." She instructed, hating the way her voice shook instead of coming out like the command she'd intended.

He paused before leaning over her, his lips inches away. She hadn't kissed him since that day on the hillside, longer before that when Adam's illness had worsened, but she found she couldn't do this without at least saying goodbye to him; the man that had become almost everything to her.

"I'll never kiss you goodbye Claire." He told her sharply his eyes flashing like they used to; picking up clearly on her state of mind. She couldn't move, if she had been able she'd of taken him by the front of his shirt and crushed her lips to his, not letting him deny what could well be her last request of him.

"Then kiss me good night." It came out like a plea and she couldn't care less. His expression flickered and she saw the moment he softened, he leant in closer, holding his body off her so as not to damage the fragile tubing that would preserve her. His mouth slid over hers with consummate skill and no small amount of desperation, she'd kissed him a thousand times, never had she felt quite so lost in one. For them, the kiss was sweet, she would have said bittersweet but she wouldn't let herself believe it was the last. He pulled away, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

"Don't you dare die on me!" She told him sharply, it was the closest she was going to get to telling him she loved him; he gave her that smirk that told her maybe they would be alright, and she considered the fact that it was possible she did love him, in his own way.

"Never." He responded it sounded to her ears like a promise, as he slid the tube closed, sealing her in. Her immortal life was almost unbearable as it was, she couldn't contemplate what it would be like now, to be alone with it.

The liquids slid into the tube and pumped through her quickly, so fast that she barely noticed the creeping frost or the way her breath began to mist. Eyes heavy she tried to focus on his face as he stared back at her from behind the steadily frosting tube, but it was a losing battle. Her eyes closed as her lungs became too heavy to draw breath.

It felt like drowning she decided, as liquid flooded her aching lungs, before it solidified, there was that panic, raw and blinding when you struggle for breath, only she couldn't, her thrashing was silent. Slipping unconscious was almost easy, for _her_ at least; her last thought was that she hoped Sylar didn't suffer too much as ice permeated every inch of his tissue, because she could imagine it was supposed to hurt.

---*---

He pressed his hands against the tube, leaning close, watching as her eyes closed and she succumbed to the compounds pulsing through her. Fear gripped him, they'd never tested cryo fully, not on a whole person, there was little point trying it on someone other than the two of them after the first few tissue tests had failed. Her face distorted into what almost looked like pain and he winced; so it hurt, or at least it should. At least he had the comfort of knowing that out of the two of them, her regenerative ability was stronger, infinitely more adaptable than his pale imitation, out of the two of them, she would survive this.

Sylar leant closer; capturing the image of her face like this... she looked asleep, incredibly pale, almost blue, but merely asleep; it was an image he could keep if it had to be his last. The last 30years had given him several hundred to add to those he'd collected from his time as Ethan. It was something he used to measure his life... the width of her smile, the depth of her gaze, even the brush of her hand for no other reason than to merely touch him. There had even been moments when he could have sworn she'd let him make love to her, rather than simply fuck her in the small metal building, stripped from a dismantled Roach ship, that they'd called home.

He smiled quietly to himself as he activated the protective metal casing that sealed her away from the world and his view, and made his way to his own tube. As he climbed inside he felt oddly calm. Too calm considering he was possibly getting into his coffin; but when he added up all those moments with her, it hadn't been so terrible a life he decided, he'd spent 30years with the woman he loved. Granted 30 out of 700 made it seem slightly less special; but to him, it was a lifetime more than he'd ever hoped for or probably deserved.

Using his ability he attached the tubes, trying not to scream as they dug into the skin and slid along his veins and lymph systems, sprouting into places that they had no business being, it was agony, he felt every perforation, every nook and cranny of his foreign circulatory as they explored. Blissfully, thankfully, the cold began to numb him, but it wasn't like falling asleep... drowning wasn't peaceful. He couldn't stay still as he thrashed, fighting trying to gain oxygen in his flooded lungs, only the heaviness of his limbs subdued him as he lost feeling in his extremities. Never again would he do this... never. With the last vestiges of consciousness he activated the tube mechanisms, sealing himself inside and slamming the metal exterior around, plunging him in to total darkness that would last for decades.

---*---

They drifted, asleep and silent, for almost 37years. Unaware and unconcerned that something began to follow them. Sylar's cold body twitched in response, responding to signals carried through the vastness of space. Slowly and surely, encased in ice with his system pumped full of alien toxins, his vast store of abilities and extreme will suppressed, something began to move and grow inside of him, inch by invading inch, year by year.

---*---

Claire awoke spluttering, shivering and vomiting up preserving solutions, she fell out of the cryotube as her body tore free of the length of tubing that kept her attached to it. Collapsed on her back on the cold metal floor she became aware simultaneously of two things. The first was that Sylar was also awake, but on his feet and methodically inputting commands into the computers. The second was that there was something distinctly wrong with the way he looked.

Ice that had nothing to do with the cryo sleep flooded her and she felt something unpleasant squirming in her stomach as her eyes focused on the razor sharp appendages that seemed to have sprouted from a point on his back, and were being used as additional limbs with supreme skill. The near skin tight suits they still wore left her in no doubt as to where the source of the contamination was... it had spread from the base of his spinal column.

It took her a moment to decide that lying on the floor staring wasn't helping, Sylar wasn't himself, in fact he was ignoring her, almost as if he wasn't exactly aware of her at all. Claire glanced back at her open cryotube, someone opened it.

Sliding to her feet, she slowly made her way to an opposite console, pulling up the cryo logs. Sylar's tube had opened 48 days ago, in response to an emergency change in his vital signs. Cardiac arrest, followed by a spike, followed by a sudden drop in brain waves, the computer had followed the protocols and revived him.

Her hands hovered as she glanced back over at him, he was still ignoring her. Nervous energy danced across her still fuzzy neurones as she realised that it was entirely possible Sylar was dead, and what was standing across the room from her contained nothing of him but his face.

Claire pulled up the logs on her own cryotube, her readouts were normal, or at least within limits for a regenerating human using this system, unwavering for 68years. Right up until 20minutes ago when an emergency override had been triggered, by the console Sylar was using. Her eyes narrowed and she glanced at him, wondering... before she tapped into the readouts he was currently displaying.

The world seemed to collapse beneath her... he was calling for help. Calling to Roach vessels!

Yet she was awake, alive, and able to act, which she could only hope meant that somewhere in there Sylar still existed, enough for him to want to revive her. Scanning the logs she was stunned to realise that they were almost home, they had already entered Earth's solar system. Searching the logs with increasing desperation she realised they were detecting at least 1 other vessel on a direct intercept course... a course it had maintained for the last 30years. But even as she watched, another two appeared on the sensors, bursts of communication flowing between the vessels and theirs.

Claire closed her eyes briefly, trying to summon strength, she wasn't sure she believed in a God, but she believed in fate... and its cruelty. It liked to play her; it wouldn't want to lose its favourite toy. Not even considering the foolishness of why, she still hoped that a better life still existed out there for her, almost like a reward for all her suffering. She had no weapons, there had been some stored in the control room, in case they were revived early in response to a threat; but looking around now, she realised that they were suspiciously missing.

But she hadn't been a marine for nothing, she bent, sliding her hand into her boot and removing the small blade she kept concealed there within the fabric. If she was honest, she'd admit to concealing it there ever since she became aware that something 'alien' had taken route inside of Sylar. But that would be admitting that she had been afraid of him, at least in part.

She wasn't sure she fancied her chances, not if Sylar was truly gone. He had always held back with her, never once had he directed any of his truly vile abilities her way, and she was certain he had plenty, more than even she realised. God knows what he'd picked up from the survivors over that 20years! Now it was possible a Roach like mind had access to them all.

Her approach was swift, she slashed with the blade aiming for the protrusion on his lower back, but the blade missed as he darted left with unnatural speed. She barely managed to duck as the blade like appendage swung at her head, her back arched she tried to use the momentum of the movement to counter but the other appendage sank into her stomach. His hand raised and she tried not to think about the disintegration trick he could pull as she slashed the offending talon in her gut with the blade, hacking it clean off at the joint. It was enough to distract him and the blast she was certain had been meant for her head shattered the remains of his cryotube behind her.

Ducking she wrenched the talon free and swung it with intent towards his neck, trying to do her damndest to avoid the brain... not convinced yet that she would have to truly kill him. A blast of air slammed into her and she shot across the room, winded and gasping for breath he stood appraising her, his hand out, keeping her pinned. Sylar hadn't been able to successfully hold her like this for years... she'd be damned if some fucking Roach would. Slamming up mental barriers and a will of iron that had taken centuries to carve out, she felt the pressure lessen until she could wrench herself free. Flexing her hand she sent the small blade sailing towards him with accuracy born of practice.

It never reached, but then it hadn't been meant to, she charged him sliding in to a low tackle that the Roach part of the brain controlling him didn't seem to recognise. Her legs scissored as she went until she managed to shatter his knee caps, sending him down heavily. Sadly apparently the Roach physiology had learnt to use her ability too... the talon was reforming and it had a friend. Rolling quickly Claire attempted to avoid the blows as they slammed into the place she had been, attempting to eviscerate and decapitate her all at once. Sylar's face was a twisted mask, his skin had almost taken on a mottled grey hue, but his black eyes familiar to her now as the liquid brown they normally were, was what really told her that this thing would kill her.

Her lapse in concentration cost her, a talon shot out and around, piercing her through the chest, whilst the other slammed once more into her gut, severing her spinal column this time. Limp and useless until the offending talon was removed she collapsed, dragging what remained of Sylar down with her.

"SYLAR!" she screeched straight into his face as he loomed over her, the talons twisting inside of her, preparing to tear her in half. His head cocked and there was a pause, she took it, driving her head up she slammed into his nose, shattering it and disorientating him enough to loosen its grasp. Her spinal column healed around the talon, restoring partial function above the waist, reaching out she grabbed the fallen blade. The glint of it seemed to reflect in its eyes as she swung, Sylar's hands rose, but they seemed unfamiliar appendages to the Roach, of which it had minimal control over; she easily deflected them and drove the blade to the hilt straight into the spine.

It screeched, a god awful sound that set her teeth on edge and made her brain reverberate inside her skull. Not relenting she flipped them, not caring about the damage the talon still embedded in her was doing, or the electricity that seemed to be coursing between them, almost seizing her muscles. Not releasing the blade she twisted and tore at the flesh until the talons fell limp. Wrenching the blade out she slashed, cutting away human and alien flesh beneath the material.

"Brain." Sylar's ragged voice cut across her blood soaked frenzy and she froze, watching as the hind brain began to reform around his spine.

"Tell me what to do!" she snarled, grasping his head by the hair and trying to shake the information out of him.

"The spot... behind my right ear." Sylar spat back, writhing beneath her, clearly fighting as he revealed the one secret that remained between them.

"Fuck that!" She swore at him, slamming his head back into the metal floor with enough force to knock him cold for a few seconds at least. The talons flailed of their own accord and she decided that taking a risk was pretty much her only choice here. Her hands slid around his neck and with quiet ferocity she twisted until the neck cracked and the talons fell limp... as did the rest of him.

Working quickly Claire took hold of the small blade again and brought it down with enough force to sever the spinal column at the base of his neck. Trying not to panic or think too much about what she was doing, she carved at the sinew and muscle until the head tore free of the contaminated stump of spinal cord. But as she raised the head, rolling away from the twitching body; that she knew from experience couldn't sprout a new head; she grasped the remnants of the spinal cord in the neck, stopping it from regenerating. Swallowing bile at the slack look on his face, his eyes thankfully closed, she aimed the knife again; it was the brain that was important... that spot. Everything else was expendable.

Her whole life had prepared her for this, every god awful act of violence, every blood curdling injury she'd suffered, every step she'd taken with the infuriating man who's life she quite literally held in her hands. Baring all that in mind she used the knife to dissect the head, pulling apart the remnants of the spine from the skull, cutting away anything that had taken on a distinctly unnatural hue, his brain was a covered in tiny seething black tendrils that seemed to infiltrate to the core... almost like veins. She tore them free, cutting at some that resisted; they slithered loose, still twitching in her bloody fingers as she hurled them away, repulsed.

When she was done, and every last remnant she could find had been excised, with creeping dread, she lowered the head to the floor and released he hold on the brain stem allowing it to regenerate. She'd been through worse... her experience at the hands of Roaches had taught her the sheer power of her own ability when needed.

But he wasn't healing. Although technically he had her ability, it didn't quite work with the same voracity as hers, she sat for two whole minutes, nervousness spreading like some vile thing inside of her as nothing happened. He couldn't be dead... he was Sylar. Without him, what the hell was she? The balde twitched in her hand, for the first time in such a long time she truly considered it... suicide always seemed like such a terrible thing to her, like she was going against nature and her own biology.

Sometimes, particularly on the ships as they'd drifted she'd wondered at her aversion to it. Perhaps it was a part of her nature, that her body not only kept her alive, but that her mind actively avoided or was incapable of performing such an act. It didn't seem to protest when she threw herself into life threatening situations, possibly because she wasn't expressly thinking about dying, but as the weapon started to raise and her hands began to tremble, a sweat breaking out across her skin she realised actively choosing was not something it would let her do. She considered the unfairness of it with festering rage, that her freak show of a body might stop her from even this final act of defiance. Because she couldn't go on alone... trapped on this ship, with Roaches coming, to be experimented on, left to float dismembered in a vat, like some sort of curio from another world to be gawked at. Not without him.

It started slowly and her hand dropped, the weapon clattering on the floor as she watched with baited breath as signs of repair began, it took five whole minutes before the skull knit back together, and another two before his head began to sprout a new spinal column, just as he had once watched her, she watched as he was remade.

Sylar opened his eyes and took in a pained breath. Claire grasped his shoulders, she needed him up, awake, and himself, and god help her as she ran her hands along his healed flesh, checking every inch of him to be sure, she couldn't help but feel relief and an uncomfortable surge of affection. It was bound to happen eventually, given all they'd been through she reasoned, as her hands clasped his face and he shuddered violently, his eyes wide and wild, fixing her with an inscrutable look.

His whisper thin voice made her heart swell. "It's gone."

**___________________________________________________________________________________**

**A/N: Thanks again to all those reviewing, thanks for sticking with me, nearly there now. I just want to put a shout out to Hazgarn, who gave me the idea about the whole hind brain part and I just had to snag it, visual was too good to pass up.**


	20. We Come In Peace

**Chapter 20: We Come in Peace**

_"It's gone."_

Sylar was too stunned to move, his head was firmly in Claire's lap, her fingers smoothing over his newly formed skin and for the first time in 30years he felt like he was suddenly free. Her face lowered over his and his breath caught, he'd never seen her look like that at him before... never. Or if she had, it had never felt so damn good.

"God, I felt that thing, growing inside of me, whispering in my head... in the cold." He told her honestly, the grave look on her face only deepened and he grasped her hand pressing it over his chest until she could feel the frantic beating of his heart. He didn't know how to describe the release, the sudden flood of sensations to her, he honestly hadn't realised how deadened that thing had made him to everything. Just the brush of her fingers against his felt like a revelation now... dear god he'd been going through the motions with her, with Claire, his Claire; she'd been his and he'd barely noticed. More than anything he despised that thing for stealing what might well be the only time in his life he got to have her; yet again fate had intervened to steal the moment from him, first it had been Ethan that got to have it, now the Roach...

The monitors beeped and Claire spared them a glance, adrenalin was clearly still rushing through her, he could feel her pulse thumping against him, her blood stained hands caked with the evidence of her recent attempts to all at once kill and save him.

"Sylar." She grasped his face in her hands, forcing his eyes to hers. "I need you to get up, they're coming." He blinked, he remembered that... remembered calling them, communicating. But oddly enough he couldn't quite grasp which emotion he was supposed to associate with it; they were all such a jumble. Repressed for so long, inch by careful inch as it had crept along inside his mind, so that now it was like a floodgate, suddenly opened, they were moving too fast to keep hold of one for any length of time.

So he focused on the one that had always been real and intense, the one that grounded him when he needed it most. His hands reached up and grasped her head, crushing his lips against Claire's with utter determination to show her just how much he appreciated being alive then and there; because of her. Clearly he'd taken her by surprise, her mouth opened almost as if to speak and he took the opportunity to shove his tongue inside, the familiar metallic tang of blood on his lips barely distracted him as he inhaled her scent. Crushing her ever closer, she collapsed underneath him, still protesting lightly as he ran his hands along every inch of the formfitting outfit, revelling in the sensation of touch... how could he not have noticed it fading?

He tore his lips away from hers, panting as she stared slightly bewildered back at him, it wasn't often he got to wrong foot her and he was almost enjoying it. "Tell me you love me." He demanded and her mouth opened in surprise, he smirked and filled it again with his tongue, groaning loudly when hers slid over it. It didn't matter if she answered or not, he saw the flicker of the expression on her face; saw it as she'd beaten the living shit out of the thing that had stolen him away. But her hands were insistently pushing against his shoulders, until she managed to peel her lips away from his by turning her head to the side.

"Now isn't the time Sylar!" She told him firmly, but her breathless tone was doing funny things to his insides and he grinned pressing his mouth to her throat and enjoying the way her pulse leapt beneath the skin, as all the while she attempted to wrestle him to his feet. "We're minutes away from being boarded!" she bucked trying to remove him as she stared at his wild eyes, half in amusement half in irritation with a dash of building panic. Clearly she thought he'd gone mad.

But he couldn't release her, not right away, he slid his hands around her face and she stilled, staring back at him, whilst her brain was clearly still trying to think of a way to escape their current predicament. "Now is exactly the time." He told her quietly, smoothing his thumb over her lips feeling the plush delicate skin beneath give gently at the pressure. There had always been something fascinating to him about her lips, much like her eyes, they seemed to capture him. "We might be dead... or worse in minutes." He acknowledged and her eyebrow quirked, but at least she was giving him her full attention now. "I love you." He whispered, she used to flinch or show a flicker of disgust when he told her that, now she seemed to take it with calm acceptance, her eyes didn't even turn the same glacial green he remembered so vividly, in response. Instead this time her hand rose and her fingers traced over his lips mimicking his own.

"I know." She told him quietly. "And I forgive you for it."

Sylar stared fixedly at her, the strobing light went off indicating some sort of calamity but he didn't look away; watching instead as the lights drew new shadows in her unchanging features. He wasn't sure she'd ever say it... imagined that she probably couldn't, at least not out loud, to him, because she simply couldn't forget everything he'd done. Claire had never been the type of person to believe that people could change, and she was probably right... he wasn't even sure he had changed all that much. If his empathy hadn't evolved he couldn't say he wouldn't have killed for abilities he wanted. With Claire he'd always just taken what he'd wanted, killed what got in his way, manipulated and terrorized, right up until the point she stopped being afraid of him. She was the victim he couldn't kill, the lover that couldn't leave, the girl who'd seen his monster and wasn't afraid, the woman that saw the man and didn't pity him. It was more than enough.

Suddenly in a violent burst of movement, he grasped the back of her head and pulled her flush against him, their lips crashed together and she closed her eyes beneath him, sinking into his blood soaked embrace. It was so wrong, everything between them, it had always been and he wasn't deluded enough to not realise; but it was what they both needed, wanted, deserved... it was enough to survive forever.

A tear escaped her eye and he let it run, wondering what it was that she was seeing in him or remembering, that had leaked out. "I don't want to die like they'll kill us, or live the way they'll leave us." She breathed, searing him with the raw emotion that clearly still bubbled beneath the surface... this was a woman still grieving he realised, who might always be grieving.

"Save the Cheerleader... save the world." He whispered against her lips and felt hers curve identically against his; it was worth the quip and the memories it dredged up, just to see that.

She pressed a kiss to his forehead and tugged, sliding out of his grip, he helped as they got him onto his feet. "Let's save them both one last time." She replied, and as if on cue the vessel shuddered; the strobes took their rhythmic pulsing up another notch.

Claire steadied his still shaky legs as she tore the remnants of the jumpsuit from what had once been his torso and handed it to him. Struggling into it as he tried not to think about quite how disturbing it was to see his entire body like that he found he was more relieved to not be meeting what might be his end buck naked. That done he lunged across to the console, seizing the controls and hastily began pushing buttons. She slid up beside him, her hand gripping onto his forearm as she gazed at the readouts, finally his heart begin to pulse as fresh supplies of adrenalin finally started flowing, responding to the danger he'd brought upon them.

"Are we close enough to attempt it?" she asked, eying the steadily growing ball of blue in the viewing port, he spared a glance out the viewer and tried not to think how much more inviting it looked than the orange ball they'd left.

"No." He muttered, shoving at a few controls with entirely more aggression than was necessary. He hated feeling limited, powerless, but that's exactly how these bastard things always made him feel.

"Do they want us dead?" Claire asked leaning in closer to make out the symbols, clearly she'd realised that the ships were well within firing range now and yet still hadn't opened fire.

"Unfortunately not." Sylar muttered, knowing he looked as sickened as he felt at the idea. "I... _It,_" he corrected, "Was communicating with them. They're curious now; want to understand how I became like one of them. Then there's you." he gave her a sharp appraising look, after all it was partially her fault for being so damn interesting. "They have orders for you from higher up. Some_thing _wants to know how you can do what you can do. Apparently immortality is a driving goal for any species."

"Wonderful." Claire managed almost convincing him that her heart rate hadn't shot up a notch at that; Roaches were bad enough to deal with; evidently she didn't want their conquerors too. "So you remember it then, what it was like whilst it was...?" she gesticulated with her hands rather than mentioning the invasion.

"Yes." He replied curtly and didn't elaborate, he could deceive himself quite well when he put his mind to it, and he intended to bury the whole experience in as deep and dark a hole in his psyche as he could find. Claire placed her hand over his still one that he'd curled into a fist beyond his knowledge on the console and brushed the skin gently, he stared at them until he could uncurl his fist and return to his frantic button pushing. Apparently his near death and the lengths she'd had to go to save him had caused a profound impact in her... he didn't think he was imagining the fact that she seemed reluctant to remove her hands from his skin. He'd have to dwell on the breakthrough in their relationship when it wasn't in danger or ending quite so abruptly.

Claire moved over to another console, her back ramrod straight, chin out, he knew that look. "Well if they want to capture us, I suggest we not make it easy. We'll just have to out run them and if that fails, this ship has weapons, we should use them." Claire bit off, wrenching control from his console to hers and slamming as much fuel as was possible into the reactor. There was no feeling of inertia, or speed in space, but as they both turned to look instinctively out the viewing port, the blue ball got larger and larger.

"Claire we've only got about 2minutes of fuel left if you burn it all like that!" Sylar barked, trying to seize control, she shoved him away, he wasn't accustomed to seeing desperation mixed in with her steely resolve, but he was certain it was there now.

"We'll make it!" she snarled, and she didn't need to say a damn thing for him to understand her refusal to be carved up again for anyone's curiosity, not when they were this close to home. Sylar watched as she visibly shut off the doubting, forever young, woman inside of her and drew instead on the soldier; the soldier she believed could make this happen.

A shot hit them from the closest Roach vessel, the impact reverberated through the whole ship, metal groaned and the lights began to strobe violently. "We're venting." He informed her needlessly as he took up the weapons controls and returned fire, working in tandem with her as she flicked the controls for the emergency seals and forced containment around the control room. His eyes drifted once more to the ever increasing blue ball... he could see the white clouds in the atmosphere, the patches of green from the continents, Claire was staring fixedly at it too. They were so close.

"We'll make it." She hissed, but he was certain it was more to convince herself than for his benefit.

"Of course," Sylar muttered, "Because we're usually so lucky." She gave him a sharp look but he saw the 'almost' flash of amusement that the dark situation was causing to bubble inside of them both. Survival instinct was a powerful thing, and they had it in abundance.

They entered the Earth's atmosphere.

Sylar tore open a panel beneath the console as the vessel shuddered with a powerful impact that the monitors informed him at blown out half the aft section. His hands wrapped around the weapons stashed beneath and he chucked one at Claire. She caught it without even glancing his way, sliding it into her free hand as she forced the engines faster.

"Optimistic as ever." She smirked at him and he ignored her, if they were boarded and those things had something to knock out their abilities he wanted to be armed. Although as the whole ship began to creak and panels shook in the casing he considered the fact that the Earth's atmosphere might very well do the job for them.

"We're too steep... and way too fast!" he watched as the readings scrawled in front of him, panic building as he grabbed her sharply around her waist. Her hand latched onto his and gripped tightly as they were almost thrown off their feet. The smell of burning assaulted his nose and he held her tighter, searching inside of himself for the elusive ability. He'd only have one shot, there was no telling how long it would take for his ability to recover after a jump these days, especially not one as far back as he was planning. Nature evidently really didn't like you screwing with time.

The ship was breaking up around them, the monitors squawked and ozone filled his lungs.

"Sylar!" Claire yelled above the roaring sound that threatened to deafen even him, "I think now's a good time!"

"Not yet!" he barked back, not relenting his grip on her as his teeth rattled inside his head and the force of gravity slammed them both flat against the back wall.

"We're cooking!" she screeched, and he bit back the scream as the metal all around them seared red hot and singed his flesh. There was nothing for it. He needed to jump them now, and he needed to reach the surface at the same time, because he didn't want to risk plummeting from the upper atmosphere again... not with Claire.

He slammed his eyes shut, trying not to think about the searing pain that would threaten to tear his skull in two as he focused on a point in time, he had it... Claire's fingers slid out of his grasp. His eyes shot open as she was flung away from him, slamming into a console and shattering any control they might have had of the destroyed ship.

"Claire!" he bellowed, trying to move against the force that held him pinned as they sailed through the atmosphere, plummeting like a rapidly spinning lead weight. Vomit threatened and it reminded him far too much of the trip that had been the beginning of the end... the Drop Cage to hell. That hadn't ended too well either as he recalled. Using the same trick he had then, he focussed his telekinesis into a finely tuned point and imagined it curling around Claire, until she sailed through the air towards him, it cost more energy than he wanted to expend, fighting gravity. But as she clutched at his hands he considered it energy well spent.

The one remaining sensor revealed the energy blast that was hurtling towards them with unerring accuracy from the closest pursuing vessel. Time had run out.

"Do it." Claire breathed, her chest rising and falling rapidly as they struggled to breath against the crushing force. The impact damn near knocked him out, metal wailed and as he glanced once at the remaining sensors, not even needing to as the view port gave him a clear view of the Roach vessel that had slammed into them in desperation.

"SYLAR!" Claire shrieked as the heat of such a sharp re-entry threatened to liquefy them.

He closed his eyes praying with everything in him that it would work.

There was a faint pop and the sudden blissful absence of heat, with Claire clutched violently against his chest he opened an eye... they were still on the ship.

"Shit." Claire swore elbowing him in the gut, "Try again!" she snarled.

But Sylar was staring intently out of the window, something inside of him, centred around that specific ability was absolutely certain they'd travelled. Although it could just have been the blood dripping from his nose and the blurred vision as he struggled to remain conscious against the searing pain in his brain that was giving him the certainty.

"Caaan't." He managed slurring even that simple word horrendously. There was absolutely no way he could even think about trying again, the ability wavered inside of him shuddering and threatening to snap if he so much as went near it this soon.

Claire spun on him, staring up at his face her eyes narrowed as she swiped her index finger carefully over the blood dripping down his nose and stared at it looking parts pleased and parts confused.

"We're still on the ship... still plummeting to Earth." She managed sounding thoroughly confused. "Did you jump the whole God damn ship?" her somewhat sharp cry was cut off by the sound of tearing metal and they both stared sharply out of the viewport in time to watch the Roach vessel that had been lodged in their hull break free and begin plummeting to Earth separately from them.

The consoles squawked, crackled and a distinctive thoroughly un-amused all-American voice snapped out through it. "Unknown object, tracking across American Airspace... co-ordinates latitude 38.4 North, longitude -82.6 west. Altitude 48,400 feet. Scrambling F-22's to intercept." They weren't being addressed merely picking up on the transmission.

Claire levelled a look at him that told him in no uncertain terms that she was thinking of slamming her fist into his recently healed nose. "The 20th Century!" She snarled trying to free herself of his grasp and make her way over to the all but destroyed consoles; except he wasn't letting her go, they were after all still plummeting through the air. "Of all the God damn time periods out there... you bring us here!"

"Intercept in 15seconds." The speaker squawked again.

"Fuck." Claire bit off, clutching at his forearms with entirely more nails than were necessary.

"Unknown object you have entered American Airspace, declare yourself immediately or you will be fired upon!" The speaker snapped, all business, that broadcast had been meant for them.

"We could tell them we come in peace?" Sylar muttered, trying not to feel the vertigo or the sensation of weightlessness as they fell faster and faster.

"Jesus Christ Sylar. We're going to get blown out of the sky by the American Airforce... why?" she hissed, "Oh yes because we appeared out of nowhere in a fucking alien spacecraft that's hurtling towards..." she paused clearly working out the co-ordinates. "Kentucky... my God we're right smack bang in the middle of the USA, they are going to obliterate us! Knowing our fucking luck we'll ghost in right over Washington, probably smash straight into the Pentagon."

"Have faith!" Sylar snapped, trying to keep her from doing something stupid like returning fire in their piece of shit busted spacecraft.

"How in hell did this happen... how did you drag the whole damn ship here?" she didn't really want an answer, but she did have a point and he didn't have time to figure it out. Two bodies falling from the heavens would have been a hell of a lot less conspicuous than two great big Roach ships slamming into Central America.

There wasn't really time to consider, or to think up a better plan, he simply grit his teeth together, flung the one hand that wasn't holding onto Claire and used every fibre of muscle he had in his body to propel them off the wall they were pinned too. The metal surroundings blew outwards at his insistence, he felt gravity leave him as he hit the air, Claire's limbs wrapped around him, clinging on for dear life as he rocketed out through the hole he'd made in the hull and shot into the sky. But they didn't get far enough, the impact of 20th Century missiles was enough to set off the reactor in the Roach ship, the blast seared the flesh on his back. Sylar's only thought as the ground hurtled up to meet them, the raging inferno of twisted metal about to crash down around their supposedly indestructible ears, was that at least he was with Claire.

---*---

He never felt the impact, but as his eyes opened wearily, he felt the effects of it still healing over; the air was filled with smoke and flames. Roaring, explosions and engine noise threatened to deafen him, and yet he still heard the gentle footsteps in soft leather shoes, the click of a gun as a round was chambered. Cracking an eye open, his throat still too crushed to do more than draw in a shuddering breath he stared up into a half shadowed face... the fire reflecting in horn rimmed glasses as a gun pressed against his forehead.

"Hello Sylar."

There was a sharp pain somewhere in his gut and he winced as the familiar sting of chemicals burned through him, suppressing his abilities... dragging him back down to normalcy. The last thing he saw as his vision began to dance with black spots; was the smiling face of Noah Bennett.


	21. Altered States

**Chapter 21: Altered States**

Bright lights flooded his half open vision and Sylar hissed, trying to back away, only to find he couldn't move, he flinched hearing metal clink, he was strapped upright to a metal surface, confined. He opened his eyes just in time to see the bucket of ice cold water tossed his way, he choked back the mouthful of water and tried not to think about how god damn cold it was as it seemed to burn his skin. Focusing his eyes and lifting his head he was able to focus on the Haitian as he carefully lowered the bucket and stared passively back at him.

"Fuck that was cold!" Sylar bit off, having nothing else to say, as he scanned his surroundings... a cell, looked very similar to the ones he'd been held in before, although he was certain he could smell the traces of fresh paint. Which probably meant this was one of the 'new' company holding facilities. He snorted and dropped his head, not sure why he found the situation suddenly amusing, but he couldn't help it, after all he'd been through and survived, the idea of a little cell and a few chemicals were hardly the nightmare they once were. Nor was the paper salesmen who held the keys.

Cocking his head he watched as Noah Bennett idled into the room, that smug grin on his face... he'd always just assumed Claire had inherited hers, but now he was inclined to believe it had been a taught trait.

"Sylar, so good of you to join us." Bennett grinned coming to stand inches from him, unconcerned.

"Why, did you miss me?" he quipped, perking his ears as he tried to dredge up some semblance of his abilities through the haze of chemicals.

"Looking for something?" Bennett asked quietly, raising an eyebrow. For an instant Sylar considered blurting out Claire's name, but something told him that wouldn't go down too well. But he had to know, he had woken alone, he remembered that much, remembered the feel of her fingers slipping through his seconds before the impact and the blackness. Had they found her? Dear god was she even alive? Squeezing his eyes shut he tried to focus.

"He's worried about Claire."

Sylar's eyes snapped open just in time to see Parkman idle into the room, looking uncomfortable as Angela slid in beside him. If he still had his abilities it would have been like Christmas... only he didn't.

"What's this got to do with Claire?" Bennett snarled, before shooting a sharp look his way that made his balls want to crawl back up inside his body.

"She was with him." Parkman continued, his head inclined and expression contorted as he struggled for stolen information inside his brain. Powerless he might be, but Sylar had a will of iron, he slammed the shutters of his mind down and reinforced them with concrete, sending the former policeman to his knees with the sudden shock of it, his nose bleeding.

"Damn it... I can't, he's blocking me." Parkman cursed, wiping at his bloodied nose with the back of his hand.

"How is that possible?" Angela snapped, looking nervous as she indicated the Haitian to move closer, and check the drug that was pumping into him via drip.

"How did I get here?" Sylar decided to ask a few questions of his own.

"You crashed." Angela replied succinctly. "The Airforce blew up the ship you were in and you landed a few miles away from the site where most of the debris landed."

"So why am I here and not in some government run facility, being prodded for being E.T?"

Angela smiled that kitten eating grin at him, "We got to you first. I had a dream."

**"**Bit sketchy on the details of it though I assume?" Sylar prodded unable to help himself.

"What about Claire?" Bennett snapped, he always did have a one tracked mind; he drew up to Parkman grabbing the other man forcefully by the arm and getting right up in his personal space. "You said she was with him!"

"I don't know." Parkman muttered, rubbing his no doubt throbbing head. "It was the overwhelming thought in his mind right before he shut me out. He was worried about her, wanted to know if she was alive, where she was, if we had her."

Bennett frowned and turned back to stare at him, warily he reached into his pocket and extracted a cell phone.

"Noah, you know she won't answer your calls." Angela chided him lightly.

"She won't recognise the number, I need to know she's safe Angela." Bennett snapped, looking determined as he punched in numbers on the keypad and pressed the phone against his ear.

"Claire." He breathed a sigh of relief into the handset no doubt as she picked up. "Wait don't hang up!" he snapped hurriedly. "It's about Sylar!" Bennett froze, his hand tightening around the handset until his knuckles were almost white. "It's not important how I got this number Claire. Please, there's something important I need you to see." He implored her as Sylar watched on, fascinated, he knew she and Noah had fallen out sometime before he'd realised the truth about his nature as Nathan; that at least gave him a time point of about 10years to work with.

"Claire please, this isn't a lie... Sylar is here, now." There was a pause he could practically see the man holding his breath as he waited for her answer. "I swear to you Claire. He's contained, he's not going anywhere." He let out an exasperated sigh. "Claire it's not safe... I won't have this argument I..." she clearly cut him off and his head dropped in defeat, Sylar smirked, Claire always did know how to get her own way. "They'll be a ticket waiting for you at the airport. I don't have to tell you how dangerous this is Claire." Sylar snorted, she was in about as much danger from him, as he was of suddenly taking Bennett's hand and declaring them best friends.

"You care about her?" Parkman snapped, looking somewhat sickened by the revelation. Sylar winced, sliding his mental defences back into place, he had been so engrossed in Bennett's attempts to reconnect with his daughter that he'd momentarily lost his concentration.

Bennett hung up and glanced between him and Parkman with growing distaste.

"You're Ethan." He snarled finally. Sylar opened his mouth to agree but Bennett cut him off. "Don't even try to deny it, we have it all on tape. Claire's seen it, she won't be fooled by your sick lies again!" Sylar didn't need the slam of Bennett's fist across his jawbone to pick up on the fact that the man was upset that he'd taken advantage of his Claire-bear that way.

"Not like she was fooled by yours lies for years." Sylar hissed back, spitting out blood; he hadn't been without his abilities in Centuries and he wasn't enjoying the experience one bit.

"You son of a bitch!" Bennett roared and raised his fist again, only to have Parkman catch it. "You won't touch her again!" he raged not relenting.

"Enough." Angela snapped. "We need answers, and we aren't going to get them that way." She slid around Bennett's towering form and came to stand directly in front of him. Something twisted in his gut, the lingering sense that this woman was his mother and he attempted to squash it... he hated that she had branded herself inside his mind like this. Twice!

"You're from the future, that much was apparent before we got you out of what was left of that outfit... the materials it was made of, apparently don't exist." Angela informed him, "Then there was the ship, also made of materials that apparently don't exist anywhere on Earth." She took a step closer and raised one of the weapons he or Claire must have dropped. "Then there's this." She waved it at him. Some form of recognition must have flickered across his face because her smile grew, carving the expression onto her face.

"But the biggest clue; the most important thing in this whole ugly mess, are the bodies lying in our morgue and in various Government facilities. Badly burnt and mangled from the other crash site, but intact enough for us to examine... imagine our surprise to find they weren't even remotely human."

Sylar tried to bite his tongue, now wasn't the time to run his mouth off.

"Cat got your tongue?" Angela prodded, that thin smile stretching her features into something faintly unpleasant as she loomed over him with the alien weapon hanging loosely between her thumb and forefinger. "Or let me guess, you're worried about the time-line."

Sylar couldn't help it, he snorted, dropping his head to chuckle to himself. "I'm quite sure the timeline can take care of itself." He wasn't particularly concerned about damaging the time-line and ceasing to exist or some nonsense like that, nor was he particularly optimistic of being able to affect it at all; he had tried before with little success.

No he knew, instinctively, just like he knew when and where he was when he had his ability working, that there was no way of him ceasing to exist because of something he might say or do here. He and Claire were outside of this timeline now, separate from it, disconnected, they had stepped out of it, which meant they could affect changes only because they knew what was coming, but it couldn't touch them. Handy really, further evidence of nature's neatness and its disdain for time-travel.

"It's good you have such a healthy respect for time Sylar, because you're going to lose a lot of it, trapped in here. Make yourself comfortable, and when you feel like sharing, we'll start this conversation again." Angela smirked, clearly enjoying it as she stalked from the room, Bennett was a little slower, he stopped sending him a hateful look that promised this wasn't over before he slammed the cell door shut, plunging him into darkness.

---*---

Claire crouched low, avoiding the security cameras; there was no telling how long she had, hijacking an Aiforce fighter jet had probably not been the most subtle approach, but she hadn't exactly had many options; unlike Sylar, she couldn't fly, or teleport. So when she'd managed to crawl out of the pit she'd landed in higher up the hillside and look down in time to see her father and the Haitian bundling Sylar's healed but unconscious form into a Company issue van, before speeding off with a hunk of spaceship to examine, she'd had to act quickly. The jet had come a little too close, hovering inches above the crash site, getting a good look, all she'd had to do was make a calculated leap. After that the only difficulty had been in trying to disable the tracking device, but then to her the technology was practically antiquated, she hadn't had to use much more than her knife and a few carefully rerouted circuits to convince them that the jet was happily returning to base. It had probably bought her a couple of hours, but not much more, fortunately flying low under the radar seemed to have done the trick, before she'd torn out the little black box and dumped it over a cornfield, then she'd managed to ditch the jet in a quiet lake not far from their new facility outside of Maine, New York.

However getting to the facility had been just one hurdle, she knew where Sylar was, but getting in to him was causing more of an issue. She still had her weapon, which was a small mercy, but she stood out like a saw thumb in her skin tight suit... well sort of, it was New York after all. She was just about to consider going in all guns blazing when an opportunity quite literally landed on her doorstep. Claire blinked watching as an all too familiar head of hair stepped out of a car she'd once owned and started making her determined way out of the parking lot and towards the front of the unassuming building. Not a paper company this time... laundry instead, but still, something inoffensive, inconspicuous and utterly boring.

The knife flew out of her hand with silent precision, she darted forwards, timing her run as the cameras conveniently gave her a blind spot. She had mere seconds as she caught the fallen body of her younger self, the blade buried in the back of her skull, dragging her down behind the shelter of her own car, concealing them from view. Taking in an adrenalin fuelled breath she stole a look at her young face, smoothing her hands over unchanged features, yet somehow she still seemed softer, younger, innocent. It couldn't be helped. Had she had her choice she wouldn't have visited this time-period again... ever. But it hadn't been her choice and something had gone wrong, they were here now, and her only way out was Sylar... just like old times she mused.

She dragged her younger self back into the vehicle, keeping ducked down, thankfully the SUV provided plenty of space for her to strip the 20th Century clothes off and switch them with her own. Sliding into the jeans she grimaced at the texture of the material, she'd almost forgotten how uncomfortable clothing had been, how constricting, but it couldn't be helped, she needed to get inside. Glancing one last time at the prone form of the girl she'd been, she sighed, and slammed the door closed, she had nothing to conceal her with anyway, so why try, it wasn't like the knife was going to fall out of her skull without help any time soon and she didn't plan on being inside long enough for the body to be discovered.

Trying to remember the state her younger self would have been in, she attempted to walk like a determined young woman about to confront her monster, and the family she had cut herself off from. She stalked past the security desk, they waved her by, clearly expecting her, her heeled boots clicked on the surface, entirely too loud and too ineffectual for anything she might have planned.

Large heavy footsteps alerted her to his presence before he actually appeared around the corner, he stepped out bodily in front of her, she stopped only because that was what the young Claire would have done. Hands on hips she lifted her chin to stare up at the man that had raised her, loved her, protected her and ultimately lied to her one time too many. But even though her memory was as clear as day, and every lie was seared into it, she couldn't summon the same anger that was supposed to be fuelling her. After all she'd been through all she'd seen and done, the lies she'd told, his lies seemed practically microscopic in comparison, particularly because as a parent herself, even as briefly as it had been, she understood why he'd done it... given the same choice, to protect Adam, she'd have lied her ass off too.

But that wasn't her role, so she raised her chin, gave him a disdainful look and sidestepped around him with a sneer.

"Claire, honey, please." Her father sighed and followed quickly behind her, it took more than she imagined to simply ignore him, until he grabbed at her arm and attempted to whirl her around. She should have expected it really, her stance switched, her automatic reaction to snap the wrist almost asserting itself, instead she managed to turn the movement into something slightly less aggressive, swiping his hand off instead and spinning to face him, the natural stance she fell into was unavoidable. Of course he picked up on it, he gave her a once over, his eyes narrowing, but she was an excellent study of human expression, and she'd spent years analysing his, he was... proud.

"So you decided to take up self defence." He nodded, standing up to his full height and using it to loom over her, ever the father figure.

Claire cricked her neck and sent him a cold look before, spinning away and making her way down to the corridor. Again she had to catch herself when she got into the lift; she knew exactly where they'd be keeping him, having been here more than once, but her younger self wouldn't, not yet. So stepping into the elevator she waited, arms crossed as her father stepped in alongside her and pressed the appropriate button.

"Has he said anything?" she asked keeping her tone neutral, she needed to know what they knew.

"Not much. Parkman managed to glean some interesting information out of his head before he got cut off." Claire frowned and glanced at her father, noting the sudden tension in his voice. She couldn't help it she let out an amused breath

"About me I assume." She shook her head, stupid bastard always did have a one tracked mind. "So that's why I'm here." The question was as much for her as him and he nodded stiffly.

"Claire, please I need you to rethink this." Claire suppressed her eye roll at his clearly uncomfortable tone. "Confronting Sylar may not be the best thing to help you get over what he did to you." He continued, his hand almost hovering over the elevators stop button, in an attempt no doubt to keep her in the same room as him. Subtly she moved to stand in front of the buttons, arms crossed and stared evenly at him, she'd honestly never realised just how desperate he'd been to contact her, to talk to her.

She remembered of course, the last time she'd seen him, he'd been dying, the gunshot had bounced off his skull leaving him alive, but with enough damage that he'd slipped into a coma. Her mother had been sat beside him, his cold limp hands enveloped in hers, but Sandra hadn't been crying... that had always surprised her. It had taken her years and several partners to understand, that grief could be so complete that even tears wouldn't come.

He'd slipped away quietly, never once regaining consciousness and she hadn't offered her blood.

For years the decision had haunted her. He had been her father, and he'd loved her... too much, of that she'd been certain. But even at that early point in her life, she'd begun to understand that this was the normal way of things, that people died, family, parents, lovers, friends. She could save them, all of them, for years maybe, days, minutes, seconds; but eventually even her blood wouldn't be enough, old age and chance would take them from her. Prolonging their deaths was the real agony, grieving year after year for a death she knew would come... that had almost been worse.

She had never admitted to anyone, nor would she, that with Lyle's death, standing over her younger brothers grave long after the other mourners and the members of her extended family had left, she'd felt the strangest sensation of relief. Relief that this would be the last person she'd allow to touch her this deeply, the last member of her family she had to loose, the last grave she had to stand beside and feel the all consuming grief and guilt of the survivor.

How wrong she'd been. The tiny headstone beneath an orange sky flashed into her memory and she pushed it away, there was a reason she'd grown cold... it was the only way to survive.

Lifting her head she felt the crystal blue of her father's eyes pierce her, the pain she had suppressed for so long must have been carved across her ancient unchanging face because he sucked in a breath and made as if to envelope her in his strong arms. She let him. The scent of his aftershave stung her nose and brought back the flood of sensations and memories she associated with it... this was home, this was happiness and safety, _this_ was what they'd been searching for through the stars.

"Claire-bear, I'm so sorry." He breathed, pressing a kiss to her hair. "I promise you, I won't let him hurt you again... never." Claire closed her eyes, it was only natural he would assume her pain was because of Sylar and him. "And for what it's worth, I swear I will never, ever, lie to you again. Even if the truth is terrible." Claire went still, simply feeling his heart beating beneath his shirt as he hugged her tightly. The girl she had been would have thrown the apology back in his face, would have rejected it. But she wasn't that girl.

She hugged him tighter. "I know daddy." She allowed herself a moment, just a moment to be the girl again, to be the innocent that loved her father, the cheerleader from Odessa Texas, who wanted nothing more than the praise and affection of the man who was holding her like she was the answer to everything.

The elevator reached the basement and the doors slid open, ending the moment.

Claire slipped out of his arms and stalked away, blinking back the tears, as she made her way down the corridor, the cells all blessedly empty apart from the one that Angela, Matt and Peter were crowded around, waiting for her.

Coming up to stand beside them, she attempted to keep her mind blank, without actively blocking, letting only memories of what Sylar had done, the anger she'd associated with him at this time surface. Matt winced and she suppressed the smirk as he looked away, clearly deciding not to invade her privacy at this time, instead he focused intently on Sylar.

"Claire." Peter sighed in relief at seeing her, his arms enveloped her, almost as though he were attempting to shield her from the monster that lurked in the cell. Peter would always be a painful memory, she'd lost him far too soon, but it hadn't been a surprise, she'd always known from the moment he leapt off a building to save her, that he'd die a hero. "You don't have to be here, you don't have to do this, we can deal with Sylar." He insisted breaking her reverie and releasing her from his crushing hug as she came up to look inside the cell.

They had Sylar trussed upright, restrained, pumped full of drugs; the sight was oddly horrific to her now, she'd seen him worse, done far worse to him, and yet the sight of him powerless, at the mercy of her family overrode all of that. This was the man fate had chosen for her, the man she honestly believed was destined to be by her side for an eternity, a man wholly unacceptable for the girl she had been.

"That isn't Sylar." She told them quietly, staring at him fixedly until his head raised, through the haze of drugs she saw the moment recognition blazed in his dark eyes and felt something warm in the pit of her stomach, as she acknowledged that even now, she was his salvation. "This is his future." She whispered, pressing her hand against the glass, bringing them fractionally closer.

Parkman took in a sharp breath and she reacted instinctively, her hand went out slamming into his chest and pushing him back into the wall with enough force to wind him and prevent him from giving away her secret for a few precious seconds. Crouching down and whirling she whipped the alien weapon out from beneath her pant leg where she'd tucked it into her inappropriate boots, and brought her arm with inhuman speed to knock away the gun that her father had aimed half heartedly in her direction. She grabbed it as it fell, turning it on Peter, holding them both in her sights. The alien weapon hissed cycling through settings, their eyes widened in surprise as she levelled her stony gaze on them, as slowly, surprise turned into equal parts confusion and anger.

Her words were cold and clinical, when she spoke; the girl forgotten for now, as she used the voice time had given her, the voice of a Commander. "Release him."


	22. Saints and Sinners

**Chapter 22:**** Saints and Sinners**

No one moved, or seemed to breath, Claire's fingers tightened around the grip on the weapons, she wasn't used to being ignored.

"I said." She snarled, gritting her teeth in an attempt to keep her temper as she pressed the familiar alien weapon into her father's chest. "Release him."

"Claire?" Peter's strained voice drew her attention off her father's pinched face. "What's going on?"

"That's not Claire." Parkman managed to get out still clutching his gut. "Not our Claire."

Angela moved and Claire didn't even bother to redirect her weapon towards the older woman, she wasn't a threat... physically at least. "No... she's not." Her grandmother snapped, observing her coolly. "This one's from the future, my guess, the same one as this Sylar."

Claire kept her attention fixed on her father, who looked bewildered, she pressed the weapon more insistently into his chest. "Believe me when I say this weapon will make a real mess if I fire it. So do us all a favour, and open the cell door before I have to."

"You aren't going to shoot us Claire." Her father told her quietly, supremely confident.

"Come on Claire." Peter tried, attempting to get closer to the gun that she had trained on his head. She kept her gaze on her father and squeezed the trigger of the gun in her left hand, shifting the aim fractionally, so that the bullet tore free and slammed into Peter's shoulder, sending him crashing back against the wall where he slid down, holding onto the bleeding wound and staring at her in shock.

Her father chose that moment to act, apparently surprise wasn't enough to stop him, she almost admired that, but whilst she'd once been amazed at his speed and fluidity, it was like a text book to her now, even with his distinctive style. She used his momentum to whirl him around her, slamming him bodily into the cell window, where she pressed the alien weapon into the back of his head.

"One more time!" She insisted, directing her father with the weapon pressing sharply into his head, so that he was forced to move closer to the cell control panel. "I'm asking nicely. Open the cell."

"No." Her father snapped, twisting his neck despite her impressive hold, to catch her gaze unflinchingly, she wasn't sure if she admired or pitied his stubbornness. The worst part was; she was certain he was right, she wasn't going to shoot him in the head, not with this weapon anyway… there was no coming back from that.

"Fine." She swung him around attempting to get him backed up against the wall with the rest but apparently he was determined to get the weapon from her, she deflected his sharp hand movement with one of her own. Frustration won out, and she delivered a sharp kick to his gut that caught him off guard, doubling him over, she took the initiative, swinging the weapon towards the cell to obliterate the reinforced window, showering molten glass down on Sylar who roared in pain despite the drugs. The weapon carved a huge smoking hole, large enough for her to get through, but her father recovered quickly, as had Parkman, her father charged at her, trying to take her down, whilst Parkman unleashed a mental attack, trying to get inside her head.

It was harder to fight when you were concentrating on keeping someone from tunneling into your mind, but she liked to think she managed it with style as she swept around her father's large form, delivering a blow with the heel of her hand to his kidney that sent him down to his knees, her foot snapped up and connected solidly with his head, knocking him out for a few seconds. Time enough for her to round the gun on Parkman.

"As they say... your parlor tricks don't work on me." She waved the gun at him. "Stop it, or I'll be forced to put a bullet straight through your head."

Peter tried to lever himself onto his feet, against Angela's protests, his blood spilling, Claire spared a glance for her father who was coming too and attempting to shake off the damage… she hadn't wanted violence, not here, not now.

"It doesn't have to be this way Claire." Parkman gasped and crumpled back against the wall, looking like he'd gone a round with a Roach, instead of her mind.

"Funny, people always say that… and yet." She waved the weapon at them indicating their various injuries. "All you need to do is exactly what I say and we'll all get what we want."

"Where's Claire!" her father roared, looking as though he was debating his chances once more at taking her on clearly still seeing her as the clumsy, slow and obvious teenager he'd tried to train, thankfully Angela seemed to have a level head, she grasped his shoulder.

"Don't be a fool Noah. No one's been killed yet, I'd like to keep it that way." Angela snapped, her nails digging into his shoulder with her insistence that he not move.

But she was almost touched by his intensity; he would happily take a bullet just to find out if his precious Claire-bear was safe. "She's fine, taking a nap in the back of her car."

"Claaairre!" Came the slurred voice from in the cell, she cast a half glance at Sylar, he looked a little worse for wear, but he would be fine the minute she got those drugs out of his system.

Returning her gaze to her family, she grimaced, this could end badly if she didn't take control. "Now I could kill you, except I haven't, for me that's showing restraint. So I'm going to insist that you take several paces back, keep your backs against the wall, hands where I can see them." Slowly, grudgingly, they did as she requested, Peter slumped against the wall, looking a little dazed, maybe weakening from blood loss, but otherwise relatively unharmed, but his eyes were still fixed on her she noted.

"Claire..." Peter managed clearly in pain as he grimaced against any form of movement as he tried to get into position. "What are you doing?"

"Rescuing my ride." She snapped; hopping down inside the cell, keeping her weapons trained on them, it wouldn't do to underestimate any of them.

"Took your… time." Sylar growled and she gave him a half look.

"Don't start. Or next time I'll leave you to rescue yourself." She griped, sliding behind him and tearing the drip out of his arm. "How long until you're up and about?"

The restraints flew off and embedded themselves in the cells far wall and he hopped down, rubbing his wrists almost reflexively, but there was no grin on his face, she'd dwell on the damage his brush with normalcy might have done later.

"I'll be fine." he muttered as his fingers brushed over the site where the drug had pumped into him, Claire returned her full attention to her family, giving him a moment to gather himself, understanding that being so powerless had probably shaken his confidence.

"Dad, Peter!" a voice she recognised all too well called out from somewhere down the corridor startling her, and the sound of footfalls alerted her to several bodies joining their little party. Her younger self crashed into her father; apparently all was forgiven when Sylar was actively trying to hurt her family. The moment their eyes locked Claire realised this wasn't going to go well, her younger self's eyes widened as she took in her double, which no doubt explained to her the unusual outfit she'd woken to find herself in, bloodstained and all.

Claire's tried to keep her face impassive as another figure stalked into view, causing the flicker of confidence to bloom once again in her father's eyes. The Haitian. He turned to stare fixedly back at them from outside the cell. Sylar's hand came down on her shoulder and she felt him shudder, "Don't worry, I have it." For the first time he didn't sound too thrilled about a new ability. "He can't block me ...us, now." He clarified.

"Oh my God." The young Claire whispered comprehending what she was seeing, as she slid between her father and Peter, before clutching onto her Uncle attempting to keep his wound from bleeding out further.

"Why did you bring her here?" Her father snapped at the Haitian, clearly talking about her younger self, but his eyes didn't move off Sylar's hand, which was still on her shoulder.

"I did not, but she is most difficult to restrain when she is determined." The Haitian replied coolly, giving both versions of her a sharp look.

Sylar sniggered at the irony in that comment and she shot him a warning look to which he merely rolled his eyes in response, before stalking towards the obliterated cell window and hopping out. Claire glanced at his outstretched hand and the gun she still had trained on her family and grudgingly accepted his help as he pulled her out of the cell through the destroyed opening, her aim not wavering an inch.

"What are you doing here?" Peter snapped, clearly pushing aside all his other questions to focus on the most important one for the time being, but as he spoke she watched the spark of energy travel between his and her younger self's joined hands. He stood up straight his wound knitting together and glared soundly at her, she wondered if he was seeing his nightmare again… the killer he tried so hard to prevent from ever existing, the innocent girl he'd so wanted her to stay, forever, however unlikely that was.

"Technically we crashed." Sylar pointed out, but his eyes kept drifting to the young Claire, she knew that look, he had always been fascinated with her innocence back then, she wondered at the contrast, at what he saw in her now that kept him coming back? Instinctively Peter seemed to push her younger self closer between himself and her father at that look, she smiled softly at that, it was almost quaint.

"So what now?" Angela spoke up, looking between the two of them shrewdly. "You aren't going to kill us; that would damage the time-line."

Sylar rolled his eyes and Claire scrutinized that look, the idea of altering the time-line didn't seem to be bothering him, which meant he'd probably already thought it through in that 'special' way he had, she'd just have to trust whatever theory he'd arrived at until they were alone enough to discuss it.

"They don't care about the time-line." Parkman spoke up and Claire narrowed her eyes at him, he was going to be a problem. "They're running from something." He added, before his legs buckled and he collapsed, blood dripping from his ears and nose, she hadn't realized just how badly Parkman wanted to be useful, to make up for his mistakes, enough apparently to risk a seizure.

"I appreciate the effort Matt." Claire smiled thinly at him, "But if you keep insisting on sticking your nose where's it's not wanted you're going to really piss me off."

"How far from the future are they from?" Peter hissed through clenched teeth, Claire rolled her eyes, clearly they were having trouble rectifying her with the girl she'd been, because she was not a woman to be crossed and she didn't make empty threats, and whether she wanted to hurt her former family or not, she might just have to.

"I don't know," Matt groaned, his eyes almost rolling back into his head. "A lot further than 5years."

But as ever Sylar was there to bring her focus back to the matter at hand. "They have bodies Claire." Sylar bent his head to speak directly in her ear, not really attempting to keep quiet. "Roaches." Claire snapped her gaze to his, ignoring the others for now, trying to keep the expression of creeping dread off her face.

"How many?" she whispered.

"Thirty nine." Angela replied promptly, almost smugly, causing Claire's head to whip around and stare at her in surprise, Angela's smug expression fell away and darkened off their own.

"How many would have been on board?" Claire turned back to Sylar, raising her gun again more insistently at her father who attempted to use the momentary distraction to move.

Sylar paused, cocking his head slightly whilst he thought about it, she didn't want to know what part of his memories he had to search to dredge up the information. "Full ships complement would be at least 50."

Claire's face fell and she gripped his forearm forgetting herself for a moment, she spun on Angela. "Your certain, 39 bodies... there aren't more being held somewhere else?"

Her father intervened. "We have 3, the government has the rest stored in various facilities. But yes 39." He switched his gaze between her and Sylar, clearly growing concerned. "Why, you don't honestly think anything could have survived that crash?"

"We did." Sylar pointed out coolly, ever the optimist.

"Sylar if we brought them here, now..." Claire trailed off, swallowing the sick feeling in her gut.

"We'll deal with it." He told her quietly, brushing his hand across her cheek, which drew a sharp breath from her younger self. Claire snapped her gaze to her and stepped out of his grasp, the poor girl didn't need to be burdened with anything else.

"We'll never be rid of them." Claire sighed, dropping the weapon and feeling despair wash over her; she was so god damn tired, standing here with the constant reminder of what she'd lost, of how simple her life had once been, it was too much. "This was supposed to be the end… our sanctuary!" She spun and pointed a finger at Sylar accusingly. "We were supposed to go home; live out our lives in peace. Gods Sylar I'm so tired, I can't do this for all eternity!"

"Claire." He reached for her arms, trying to hold her as she shrugged free of him with minimal effort.

"I don't want to be responsible for saving the world... again!" she snarled, anger giving her the energy despair had momentarily stolen. "Tell me you want that responsibility again? Haven't we done enough, suffered enough... we deserve to rest Sylar."

He grasped her face in his hands, out of the corner of her eye she was aware of her family moving, but with Sylar there, she doubted they'd move far. "Stop it, listen to me!" he insisted shaking her. "You're still grieving, what you're feeling will pass." He insisted and she blinked back the tears as he tried to shake what he believed to be the truth into her, dredging up a hornets' nest of memories she wasn't ready to let in right now. "Claire you've never given up on anything in your entire life. Don't start now. If we leave... if we even could, you wouldn't be able to live with yourself. I won't stand by and watch you do that to yourself!" His eyes shone down at her with raw intensity.

There was nowhere else to look, so Claire met his unblinking brown eyes, feeling every ounce of emotion he wanted to project in them, he seemed so much more alive now, it was almost like she'd been living with a shell of the man he'd been for the past 30years. "It's 11 stinking Roaches Claire... 11 at most. I've seen you kill more than that in five minutes." His fingers slid along her jaw and she leant into his touch, welcoming his lips when they crashed over hers, he never doubted her, she needed that conviction, standing here in front of the naive frightened young woman she had been.

"NO!" a voice pierced the air and something crashed into her side, she was so surprised by the action that she collapsed beneath the familiar weight as identical hands to her own smashed into her face, pummeling at her chest. "How could you!" her younger self screeched, clawing at her. Claire brought her hands up, she almost thought that the girl deserved her rage, but she couldn't give it her. So she flipped them, pinning her down and holding her clawed hands safely away; whilst Sylar held back the others with a simple flick of his fingers.

"Stop it, let me go!" her younger self hissed, kicking with her legs at targets that were already well out of the way before she'd even thought about the movement. "How could you he's Sylar!" she bucked desperate now, "He's Sylar!" Claire held her, until she fell still, quietly sobbing, unwilling or unable to get over that point.

Claire leant down to press her lips against the young girl's ear, knowing even as she did it, exactly how the poor girl felt. "People change. They evolve, or die." She whispered, loosening her hold enough to let her turn her head away. "I'm 781 years old, trust me on this." But the identical face beneath her was stony.

"I don't care how many years it's been, Sylar is a killer... everything he did, the lives he took, the lives he ruined, and the things he did to me; to us!" her young green eyes shone up at her so desperate to understand and so unwilling to try. "How can you let him touch you?" it was such a simple question and one, that until the end of the world she'd never thought she'd have an answer to.

Claire sighed and brushed a strand of hair out of the girls face, trying to hold on to that feeling of empathy she had, because clearly they were different people now. "You're very young." She offered as way of pitiful explanation, tears bloomed in shining green eyes beneath her, piercing her with the unwavering certainty she held to, even in the face of herself and her own possible future. "Sometimes history can be a terrible burden to carry… alone."

"Never! Better alone than with him!" Her younger self snarled up at her with utter determination, Claire smiled thinly, who knows maybe this version of her would live up to that promise. Climbing off her she let her slide out and back away towards the wall and her waiting family that enveloped her shaking form.

Looking up she shared a glance with Sylar who looked to the untrained eye completely unfazed, but she knew better he was deeply troubled by her younger self's reaction to them, expected or not. He turned to address the younger version before she could stop him. "If it helps…" the girl flinched at just his voice and he swallowed the distaste her reaction clearly bought him, raising his finger to forcefully silence the simultaneous protests of both her father and Peter, at his audacity to even speak to her. "It took you seven hundred years and the near extinction of our species to come around to the idea."

Claire snorted at the stunned looks that garnered him, although she thought her father looked somewhat more relieved, but then Sylar never had been particularly subtle. "Somehow I don't think informing her that it was probably an evolutionary imperative, is going to warm her up to the idea." She lowered the weapon finally, there really was little point now; she wasn't going to shoot them.

"You have a bug problem." She sighed wearily, facing her grandmother instead. "I doubt you've had a dream as far ahead as we're from, so consider this a preview." She paused taking in their curious expressions, "They're coming and they're going to win." Succinct and blunt but she thought it got the point across. "Trust us, they're a bigger problem than the two of us." she indicated herself and Sylar "And right now, we're your only chance of stopping them."

"How can we trust you?" Angela bit off sharply, her arms crossing her chest as she stared at them both evenly, Claire noticed that she'd put some distance between herself and her younger version, apparently she was having less trouble seeing her young granddaughter for what she was likely to become.

"Not much choice." Claire shrugged offering no apology, "Don't get me wrong, I'm sure you and your government agents and your carefully selected 'specials' will do a fine job of rounding them up eventually." She strode towards her grandmother, "The question is," she smiled leaning in close enough so that she could project the intensity that this situation deserved, "would you get them all in time, before they start killing, before they breed… and before they're seen?" Angela's face lost a fraction of its colour and Claire nodded, convinced the woman had finally understood that there were bigger issues at stake here than her and Sylar. "Would you catch them in time to stop them calling in the cavalry?"

"It's that bad?" her father pressed, looking doubtful.

"Worse." Sylar muttered, "They make me look like a saint."


	23. Mindscape

**Chapter 23: Mindscape**

Sylar sat with his feet propped up on the desk, hands behind his head, watching the two groups of irate individuals with a faint flicker of surreal amusement. Claire slid up alongside him and sat on the edge of the desk, arms folded, staring with a somewhat irritated expression at exactly the same thing.

"Somehow I imagined a rapid response team would be a little more... rapid." He quirked an eyebrow at the twitch of her lips, but she didn't smile and her back stiffened in response to his jibe. He'd already put his argument to her a dozen times, her answer remained the same, 'patience'. He rolled his eyes and glanced across at the Company team, otherwise christened 'Team Saint Peter', with its devout subjects Parkman, Hiro, Ando and the Haitian... at least Bennett had the good sense to remain on the fringes of it. His eyes travelled instead over to the Government team, true blue soldiers, men in black and unless he was mistaken a few Carnival converts and former prisoners of the bag and tag operation Nathan had run.

Nathan of course was nowhere to be seen, he was dead... his body was currently in a half transformed state occupied by his younger self who had probably by this point already fled the country in an attempt to 'find himself' again. That of course sounded less hokey now that he knew it would eventually be successful. He'd entertained the idea of going after him, showing him that he would regain his individuality... he would be Sylar again. Only he wasn't really sure it would help, if he was honest he had a sneaking suspicion that his 'old' self would just make things worse.

He decided to try out his argument one more time at least. "We don't need them Claire. They've already given us permission to use any and all force necessary, we have a free pass for the moment. We should just leave them to stick their heads in the sand here and take care of it ourselves!" Apparently his voice carried because heads swivelled around to glare at him and Claire dignified their outrage by swiping at his head with unerring accuracy and leaving him nursing the phantom pain in his ear.

It was almost a push too far as they turned sniggering away from him, clearly amused to find him so obviously whipped by a woman half his size who still looked barely eighteen. But Claire levelled him with a look that let the Commander dance behind her cold green eyes, reminding him that she was planning something. Tentatively he gave a prod with his mind, he hadn't bothered trying to break through her mental defences in years, but he felt the need now. To his immediate surprise he slipped straight into her mind, only to have her round on him once he was in there, slamming the walls up behind and leaving him feeling like a peeping tom, caught with his hand in the knickers drawer.

_"What?" _She snapped her patience apparently extending to allow him to explain his sudden intrusion.

_"What are we doing here Claire?" _he pressed, confused by the changing landscape of her mind, he'd never felt anything like it, clearly he'd underestimated the changes she'd undergone, because her mind was nothing like the fragile one of the girl she'd long left behind; he wasn't even certain he was seeing the truth of it. He glanced around in the muted glow, something danced across his vision and he thought he saw the flicker of green, but it was like clutching at shadows.

_"Watching." _Was her soft reply, he felt phantom fingers graze his cheek and he turned in the direction they insisted, the wide open dark expanse around him shifted, taking the shape and form of the Government group he'd been observing, letting it swim in his mind's eye.

_"Why watch them... they're unimportant, practically powerless here." _He muttered, barely willing to entertain the idea that 'normal' human beings could possibly help. _"We're wasting time."_ He pointed out futilely.

He felt her mental eye roll at his apparent short sightedness and he felt his frustration building, he couldn't simply rip the information from her mind... he didn't even know where to start pulling. Glancing around again at the vast plains around him, he realised uneasily that they were actually water, reflecting a burnt orange sky.

_"I have a plan."_ She admitted, smiling and letting further light into this dark little corner of her mind that she'd granted him access too.

_"And our plans usually work out so well."_ He muttered unamused, _"This would make it what... Plan D we're on now, of our 'so' successful save the world campaign?" _The water surrounding him rushed over his 'theoretical' legs and grew turbulent... apparently she wasn't amused either. _"In the history of military planning Commander." _He snapped knowing he should bite his sarcastic tongue, but utterly unable to, _"how many Plan D's do you think were actually successful?" _

_"Think about it Sylar." _She instructed deftly ignoring him and he was struck at just how seductive and patronising she could sound all at once, here, inside her own mind, where she ruled. _"We might succeed by accident in achieving the very thing you and I both ultimately failed to do for the past 700 years... change the past Sylar. They're already aware of what's coming, of what will happen, of the threat it poses, of the technology we've handed them! Just think about it, we might never have to go through what we have, see the things we've seen. Suffer the way we have."_

Sylar turned his head, blinking as he caught a glimpse of waves and a shore in his peripheral vision, revealing the extent of her mindscape to him gradually. He didn't want to know what would happen if those waters turned stormy, but he couldn't let her live with false hope like that; it would destroy her. As strong as she was, as special... she was still human on some level, and humans could only take so much.

"_We're not a part of this time-line Claire."_ He wanted to be gentle, but he needed to be blunt._ "Oh we're in it, but we're not part of it. The ability has certain features Claire... fail-safe's so to speak. Nature's fail-safe's. When we jumped through time we essentially got off the normal strand of time, the original strand." _The waters rose fractionally and unless it was his imagination he felt the chill of them creep along his skin. _"Anything we do in the past won't affect us... because we're not there to be affected anymore." _

Something splashed across his chest and he wished he could explain the complexities of time-travel and temporal paradoxes to her when he was safe and sound on dry land... in his own mind. But he'd pushed, he'd wanted to know and he was stuck here for now until she let him out. _"If we were to cease to exist Claire; then we couldn't come here and make the changes we're making... that's a paradox Claire, one that would probably tear a hole in the fabric of space-time and collapse the Universe. So it doesn't happen. We get taken out of the equation, left to our own devices, cast adrift in the flow of time." _The water rose to his neck and he felt his whole body begin to shiver with the iciness of it, at the current that threatened at all times to pull him under.

_"So you're saying we can't change anything!" _She snarled, but he heard the heartbreak in her voice, felt the despair in it, he longed to see her face, but all he had was the water and the disembodied voice. If he could touch her he was certain he could make her understand, could comfort her.

_"You misunderstand." _He called out into the encroaching darkness, spitting out the water as it rushed into his mouth, she was going to drown him in her despair if he didn't pull her back. _"We can change everything... and anything!"_

The water went unnaturally still, and he managed to keep his head above it for the time being, but his legs were so tired and he couldn't seem to find the shore he'd glanced before. _"We can change anything Claire... because it doesn't affect us. Don't you see?" _he pleaded, and the waters dropped fractionally the sky burning brilliantly almost blood red above him.

_"So we will always exist, like this; even if history never happens, if that innocent little girl I was never has to become a killer, or a soldier... or a mother. We'd still be this way..." _She reasoned slowly her voice carried to his ears as if on the wind and it forced him to close his eyes, nodding against the guilt of that and the weight of such a truth.

_"There was never any way to change what we are Claire; only the fate of the rest of the world, and the future of the people we once were."_

_"Why?" _her soft voice called out to him and he longed to reach out and take her in his arms, but this was her mind, her rules.

_"Because life isn't fair." _He admitted just as softly.

"_We can still have lives Claire, still travel through time, still live wherever and whenever we choose... we can stop it from happening again, we can give them a chance to be different people." _He admitted, finally accepting her Plan D; it wasn't the best option, he'd rather _they_ got the happily ever after, but at least if one version of themselves got to have it, then that was something. 

There was a rush of water past him and he felt himself dragged under, legs and arms flailing as he was engulfed, his lungs burnt and water rushed into his phantom mouth, drowning him just as efficiently as real water would.

Then he was free, he took in a shuddering breath as the precariously balanced chair he was sat on toppled over backwards sending him crashing to the blissfully solid floor. Raising his head and wincing at the way it throbbed he realized that all eyes were on them… his internal clock informed him he'd been inside her mind a lot longer than he'd thought and apparently it had been noticed.

"Thank you." Claire's voice snapped his attention back to her tear streaked face and he paused at the way her heartbroken expression caused his chest to tighten in physical pain. "For your brutal honesty." She clarified.

"I'm sorry." He admitted, more for her than himself, because a selfish part of his mind that still harboured the monster he had been, reminded him that the life they'd led was probably the only way he'd ever have won her.

"Yes well, like you said, life isn't fair." She stood towering over his fallen form, her hand extended to him. "We have work to do." She reminded him as he accepted her hand and she helped pull him back to his feet. "And you were right..."

She spun around facing the two uneasy groups who still clearly thought the two of them might just be the enemies they needed to fight. "We're wasting time!" she snapped, stealing his line. "The longer we wait, the more chance these things will gain a foothold. I won't watch the Earth destroyed twice!" She eyed the man in a sharp uniform that seemed to be holding the reigns to this whole operation. "Sylar and I are going now… those of you that want to come, who want to learn how to stop these bastards then get your shit together now!" Sylar suppressed the smirk, the Commander was always a sight the first time she got going, he didn't know anyone that hadn't been thrown by it for at least the first few seconds.

Curiously he cast his eyes to the younger Claire as the current one started spouting tactics and extermination methods, he tuned out when she started on Roach movement patterns and the best way to use the alien tech. The younger Claire was watching open mouthed, looking more than a little unnerved and unless he was mistaken, somewhat proud of her older self as she jabbed the arguing General in the chest with a finger that she could probably use to snap even a man of his girth in half. He caught her looking and glanced at him, but she was too slow to hide the thought that came across loud and clear to him.

_"Did he make her...me, like that?"_

Sylar smirked, he'd love to take credit for turning her into a strong warrior woman, but even he wasn't that arrogant; the younger versions eyes were still fixed on him, scrutinising. He tapped his temple at her and shook his head. Her mouth fell open and she glanced away.

_"Oh god he can hear my thoughts."_

Sylar chuckled, considering he'd almost drowned inside the mind of this woman, he found the girls fear of his mental ability somewhat ironic.

Peter and the others seemed just as drawn to this new Claire now she was in her element, not that he could blame them, they'd all moved closer into her little circle as she started pulling out maps of the crash site and going through the plans for the different assault teams. All but the younger Claire, who seemed almost forgotten, even by her recently, somewhat tentatively, reconciled father. She hovered at the back, not really a part of this... she wouldn't be joining the teams, because as of yet, she had no skills. That and he and her future self were more than a little wary of handing the Roach's, even ones trapped in the 20th Century, the secret to immortality. Sliding up beside her, he waited until she decided to look up at him before commenting.

"Surreal isn't it." He murmured, so not as to disturb the others who were happily unaware that the big bad Sylar was beside their precious Claire-bear.

She glared soundly up at him, her jaw grinding in distaste as she considered snapping at him over the virtues of ignoring him. Apparently her mouth won out. "Why, because I'm actually useful in the future?" she snapped, clearly bitter at what she thought had been an insult.

"On the contrary, you were always useful Claire... you just haven't reached your full potential yet."

"And I just bet you're hoping to help me along." She snarled, giving him her full attention now, but her mind was flittering about, between curiosity, disgust, fear and pride all in the space of mere seconds, it was giving him whiplash.

"You became this all by yourself Claire, I had very little to do with it." He smiled as warmly as he could manage down at her, which only increased her unease and she took a surreptitious step away, he of course followed closing the distance again.

_"God he'll always follow me, I'll never be free of him." _Her mind screamed and he winced, almost reaching out a hand to stroke across her back in an attempt to soothe her, except that would have been disastrous.

Dropping his head with a sigh he realised he had missed this version of her, so black and white, full of righteous indignation and youthful fire. "I owe you an apology." He told her quietly, her whole body went rigid. "For so many things." He admitted feeling somehow cowed by this tiny young thing who hadn't even said a word. "But mostly for Ethan." Her eyes snapped to his and for a moment he saw the woman she could be in them, cold and cruel... "He was inexcusable," he acknowledged. "I wanted to be close to you, to love you, to have you love me. I was a fool and it was a lie that hurt you."

"That's what you choose to apologise for..." she hissed in disbelief, crossing her arms and staring up at him with her eyebrows drawn together, mouth pinched. "Not killing my best friend, my mother, my father... for raping my mind to get my ability?" Well he supposed he should have seen that coming.

Sylar gazed at her quietly, feeling the heat of her anger scorch him, it was almost refreshing, that anger had dimmed in her future self, and he'd always thought he deserved to feel the flames of it for all eternity. He shrugged, "Those things were a part of who I was back then, the monster, I can never undo them, I had little choice but to obey my instincts. But Ethan... that was my choice, as a man not the monster. I was weak and lost, without you I realised I was nothing, so I was selfish and took what I needed from you." But the expression on her face was the very definition of stony.

"Don't talk to me again... ever." Claire snarled; attempting to spin away from him, he reacted on instinct, stopping her dead with barely a twitch of his fingers, as he turned her back to face him, her lips pressed shut, but with blazing eyes that promised to make him suffer.

"You will forgive me eventually Claire... you even come to love me, in your own way. I never lie, I didn't that day in the hotel room."

_"She doesn't love you!"_ her mind screeched at him. _"She was pathetic, weak, she didn't want to be alone!"_

Sylar's gut twisted at the words, he knew a large part of Claire's acceptance had been for that very reason.

_"You're pathetic... nothing more than a stalker, no woman could love you!" _She didn't need to be able to speak to hurl abuse at him.

Sylar looked away, he couldn't watch her face when she said things like that, not now, instead he cast his gaze over to the woman that he believed could, and did, love him. She caught his eye and for a second her lips curved up into a half smile, untwisting his gut with the rare power of it. It didn't matter if this younger Claire would never understand, never forgive, because for one moment in time, one version of her would; and he'd be damned if he'd ever lose that one.

He released the younger version from his mental hold and she stumbled away from him, looking smug that she'd clearly struck a nerve, before her eyes drifted over to where he was staring, and widened fractionally to see her older self gazing back at him.

"As I said Claire." He turned away from the woman that was his salvation and returned his gaze to the girl determined to be his damnation. "I am sorry for what I put you through, because unless I get tragically lucky and the world is destroyed again, you will never understand quite how much I love you."

He left her open mouthed and apparently speechless as he joined the small group making plans to save the world... again.


	24. Necessary Violation

**Chapter 24: Necessary Violation**

Claire jumped into the waiting jeep which dutifully roared off along the dirt track, Sylar of course was pointing out yet again that he and by extension her, had no need for anything so mundane as a vehicle by flying right alongside them, hands behind his head, grinning like a Cheshire cat. She couldn't blame him, he'd moaned like a bitch the entire flight, it hadn't exactly been coach inside the military planes hanger, but evidently he'd spent more than enough time cooped up inside metal ships.

"Bastard!" Peter muttered from the seat directly behind her, gaining an appreciative sound from her father. Claire rolled her eyes, he'd done nothing but attempt to smear Sylar to her, no doubt this was his somewhat belated attempt to save her from the big bad monster.

"I mean look at him, he stole that ability from Nathan, right after he slit his throat." Peter snarled and Claire winced at the memory, trying her best to ignore him and resist the urge to open the door and accept Sylar's hand. She couldn't put her finger on it, but seeing him like this again, cocky, arrogant, proud... it was oddly the Sylar she had missed.

Peter leant forward his hands coming down to land on her shoulders, which were happily once more clad in her skin tight adaptive environmental suite, granted it was covered in the SWAT gear they thought would help, rather than hinder. Gritting her teeth she raised her hands and grasped his, turning to face him as she shoved them off her. "Peter... I say this with a wealth of experience in the subject. Don't grab me!"

"Oh you'll let that murdering psychopath touch you, but not your own family? You might have forgotten everything he did Claire. But we haven't, and you being with him, it is completely inappropriate!" he jabbed his finger at her his voice raising angrily, as his bottom lip twisted with his disgust. "And it disrespects Nathan's memory... hell it disrespects everyone that son of a bitch has ever come into contact with!"

She felt the cold mask slipping across her features as she stared at his blazing brown eyes, he'd always had such kind eyes... just not today. "For the record Peter." She snapped, "My god forsaken ability hasn't and never will allow me to forget a single instant of my entire miserable fucking life. You've lived what... 30 years?" his face twisted further indicating she'd been damn close, "Tell you what, when you've lived 50... 100, 500 years, then you get to talk to me about guilt, about family and sacrifice. About how much a memory is worth, and how best to honour it!"

"What you've become Claire..." he started and she cut him off.

"Don't Peter. Because honestly I don't care what you think of me, or my choices. I have done what is necessary... I left lofty ideals and noble sentiment behind with the rest of the dead things on Earth." Sometimes she grew so tired of the judgements of people who'd been alive barely a fraction of her life and likely had no inkling of the experiences that had shaped her. She supposed in the end, that was why she was so comfortable around Sylar, he didn't make her want to tear her hair out every time he opened his mouth... well not anymore at least. With everyone else, she always got the sense that she could complete their sentences for them, that there was nothing they could possibly say that she hadn't heard or already thought about. What did it say about her that she found the rest of humanity so dreadfully dull?

"You're just like him." Peter snarled not willing to give her the last word and adding further evidence to her belief that she could finish this line of thought for him, "I was fighting a losing battle with you wasn't I, you're always going to become this... killer."

He said it like it was the worst possible thing she could be, it wasn't like she was a sociopath, or a serial killer, she hadn't quite managed that level yet; she was a soldier. Oddly enough it felt very similar to the arguments her father had used so long ago; she gave the man in question a half glance, regretting once more the time she'd wasted ignoring him so long ago.

Unfortunately she didn't think she could put up with a journey full of snide, utterly predictable comments from Peter of all people without doing something dire, and as far as she knew he'd dropped her healing ability in favour of strength. Grasping him by the front of his body armour, she all but dragged him across the seat to bring their faces inches apart. "Now you listen to me... _Uncle _Peter." She spat, ignoring his attempts to free himself or the odd twist his lip managed at the inappropriate choice of moniker for him. "That girl we left back there is Claire... you're sweet, innocent little cheerleader, the very same one you once risked everything to save. She's not me. And with any luck she never will be." She released him throwing him roughly back into the seat where he continued to glare at her. "You treat her like a killer... then she'll become one a hell of a lot sooner." Glancing at her father who was watching quietly she made sure to lay some of the weight of responsibility on his shoulders. "She's immortal, but trust me, what happens now, in this time, will stay with her forever. Make it count."

Without waiting to see how they responded to that she kicked open the jeep door and leapt out, she didn't even need to call his name, his arms scooped her out of thin air inches from the ground. Her legs went around his waist, sliding her hands up around his neck. When had she gotten so comfortable with his body being so close to hers? But there was no doubt that she was, she knew every inch of him, had seen his entire body re-grow for god sakes, had spent entire nights for years, merely watching his troubled features whilst he slept; tracing the outlines of the scars inflicted long before he'd cursed himself with her ability; not that he'd ever know that; she'd always been gone by morning, even if it was her bed he'd crept into. Even when they'd shared their small home, with her... _their_ son, she'd kept a separate room. Her head fell against his shoulder blades as she held onto his back, simply feeling him, this man that was such a part of her life, she wasn't sure where she ended and he began anymore.

But this was still a war, one they were inches away from winning, or losing... she had to focus; because win or lose she got the impression Sylar wasn't going anywhere; which meant they had time.

They reached the clearing where the most recent Roach sightings had been made by the Special Forces teams sweeping the area. The jeeps pulled up before the drop off, she and Sylar didn't, they flew right out over the edge and took in the sight below. To the untrained eye, it didn't look like much, a couple of Roaches doing their best to conceal themselves... and most importantly the tech they'd salvaged or stolen, a mixture of human and alien. But to her and Sylar it was the end of the fucking world all over again.

"Damn it." Sylar snapped. "They've almost finished the beacon!" He didn't wait for the teams, or the Specials, or anything else, all he did was grip onto one of her wrists with fierce intensity as he pitched them over the edge into the gorge.

Claire clung on with one hand wrenching her weapon from her leg holster and aiming it at the shining metal object that took up the extent of her narrowed vision for now, everything else was unimportant. Sylar's hands were ablaze as he rained fire, she didn't hesitate as they swooped lower his body turning them abruptly away from the barrage of shots that narrowly missed them.

"Do you think that means they recognise us?" she yelled over the roar of the wind and the battle shrieks of the enemy.

But Sylar was too busy to answer as he rocketed over them unleashing electricity as she picked off several targets. More appeared from the surrounding foliage.

"Shit." She snarled, grabbing at the radio on her body armour. "We've got problems!" she snapped into the speaker. "We're too late... the bastards have bred!" she swore as Sylar took them through the scenic route almost managing to decapitate them both in the trees. "I'd suggest quarterising this whole god damn area!" Of course the Roaches were smarter than that, she'd bet that this was just one site, there were probably a half dozen more already by now, all of them probably trying to get the call out.

Static crackled on the radio. "Affirmative." Came the short crisp supply. "We have friendlies in the area, awaiting evacuation." She didn't know the voice or the man with his finger on the button, but she knew military.

"No time. Fire now or we'll lose containment." There was a pause of silence over the line.

"Roger that. All team's immediate withdrawal, you have inbound."

Sylar gripped her arm tighter, drawing her attention to him as he spun them back towards the centre of the Roach cluster that seemed to be half focused on them, half on their device. "You do realise we're still in the target zone." He snapped.

"Then I suggest you get us out of here... now." She replied just as sharply, not having time to argue the finer points of chain of command with him... again. "Because it's about to get hot as hell!"

They shot straight up, just in time to see the jets bearing down on them. Claire never claimed to have any extra sensory perception, or to be some sort of psychic, but what she did have was intimate and extensive knowledge of war. She should have seen it coming.

The jet was obliterated before her eyes, it's partner only seconds later, seconds before they could release their payload. Her eyes wide there was little she could do but watch as the jets exploded raining fire and metal down over the area.

"Take us down!" she roared, but there was no need, Sylar was already diving, the tension in his shoulders as she gripped him, told her that just like her, he was committed to seeing these sons of bitches burn.

Feet from the ground she jumped letting go of Sylar and flipping as she went so that her guns were trained on the two Roaches she considered the greatest threat... the ones with their talons working furtively on the device. Her shots were precise, obliterating brain and bone as she landed heavily with a sickening crunch on two more. Not even waiting to see what Sylar was doing she rolled, praying her body would put its self back together fast enough for her to use it as she rose, weapon still gripped in hand.

The Roaches surrounded her, she counted at least 8 alive... 7 as Sylar landed tearing the head clean off one. But they didn't advance they simply stood, watching, waiting.

"Oh they remember us." The grin carved her face as she shared it with Sylar. "And I think that no kill order still stands."

Sylar stalked forwards and the Roaches swept closer to her, forming more of a bundle than a circle. "They're afraid of us." Came his curt reply as he cocked his head, seemingly observing them more closely, she was oddly grateful she couldn't read them that well.

"I guess that makes them smarter than the average human." Her father's voice rung out, Claire didn't even bother to turn around, as more teams joined their little gathering; but Sylar seemed to appreciate the sentiment if his feral grin was anything to go by, but then even more than her, he deserved his payback.

"We should attempt to negotiate terms of surrender." One of the Government SWAT teams head honchos stepped forwards, Sergeant Emerson if she remembered correctly. "There's a lot we can learn here." Claire stared at him in quite disbelief, did he honestly think he could extend his hand to these things? "Mr Sylar, I understand you have some understanding of their language, would you attempt to translate." It wasn't a question and the look Sylar shared with her spoke volumes.

So did the smoking hole she carved into the chest of the closest Roach. "Surrender not accepted." She spat on the corpse and ducked the talon that attempted to lodge itself in her spine. Sylar was back she noted, in full force, as ice tore from his fingertips on one hand, electricity from the other.

Diving into the fray and honestly not caring about anything accept carving bloody holes in the enemy; she proceeded to do just that. It didn't take the others very long to work out that hers was probably the smart plan; or for her family to respond as talons tore into her flesh, threatening to tear her apart. But it was harder to fight with reckless abandon when your family, however dysfunctional, was your squad... her distraction with them cost her enough that she didn't notice the single Roach peel free and bolt across the ground. Not until Peter's startled shout drew her attention to the shock of blonde hair that was charging equally determined towards the Roach.

In hindsight she should have known, she'd always been a stubborn bitch, but she'd thought that she'd had more intelligence than to barrel into a warzone unprepared and practically defenceless. Pumping her legs harder she sprinted after the Roach as it bore down on the younger, easier to capture version of herself that had clearly stowed away. Sylar must have known, the thought wasn't a welcome one, there was no way her younger self could shield her mind from him, or her heartbeat, or even that odd sense of location he had around her. And yet he'd let her remain tucked away probably clinging to the bottom of one of the jeeps; they'd have to have a chat about that later.

The Roaches screech caused the young girl to falter, rightly so, the pistol in her hands wouldn't be much use, it wouldn't even make a dent in its exoskeleton. The talons reached her before the Roach did, slicing clean off the arm with the pathetic weapon, the stunned look on her own younger face would have been comical if it wasn't so damn disturbing. Their eyes locked as the Roach dug its talons deep into her gut, lifting her off the ground and attempting to drag her away with its fleeing form. Sylar swept past her in a blast of air electricity dancing across the space between them as it slammed into the two bodies. He didn't pause or wait, simply slashed with his hand and tore free her younger self, wrenching her fully into his arms before shooting off into the sky, and what she hoped was out of the line of fire. Claire gave the idea of Sylar with her younger self a moment's pause, before burying her indestructible fist straight through the cranium of the Roach collapsing in front of her.

Bodies joined her panting and grunting orders at one another, a hand hovered inches from her, wisely not touching as she drove a blade into the chest of the still twitching Roach.

"Sylar took Claire." Peter's voice was oddly disjointed as he stared up clearly wishing, and probably not for the first time that he still had the full use of his abilities.

"She'll be fine." Claire bit off sharply, not quite willing to forgive him for letting her tag along in the first place; but she'd at least hear him out before she throttled him.

"With Sylar?" Peter snarled, clearly still unconvinced of the changes centuries could bring about in a person.

"Yes." Claire snapped exasperated as she swiped the blonde locks of hair that had come loose out of her face. "With the old Sylar... probably not, with that one, she's safer than anywhere else. Which given as these damn Roaches want to capture me almost as much as they want me dead, it's probably best he keep her away." Turning her head she scanned the carnage behind her, they'd made short work of the Roach nest, now they just needed to make sure there weren't any others.

---*----

"Stop squirming." Sylar barked irritated as Claire twisted in his arms like a viper, trying to pry herself out of his arms, regardless of their position hundreds of feet up in the air.

"Let me go!" she snarled at him, her hands clawing as she attempted to take a chunk of skin out of his hands, and when that failed his face. Claire was panicked, there was no other word for it, that alien 'Roach' had been terrifying, to see it charging for her like that, the way its talons sunk into her flesh, trying to tear her apart as it fled with her. She'd had no idea the Roaches would be interested in capturing her like that... or at least a version of her. To have had Sylar save her on top of that, it was almost too much. His arms tightened around her and she felt bile rise at the way his warm breath ghosted across the skin on her neck.

"Don't make me control you." he snarled, and she stilled fully aware that if he'd of wanted to he'd have done it already, it had certainly never bothered him before when he was playing her like his own personal puppet. "I suppose a 'thank you for saving my life Sylar' would be too much to ask?" he smirked down at her, clearly her expression spoke volumes because he merely shook his head at her and continued looking straight ahead. "You know I don't think you've ever thanked me for saving your life, not now, or in the future."

"Can't imagine why." She bit of childishly, wishing she could just ignore him and not rise to the bait.

"Arrogance and pride." He informed her, "At least that's my theory. Two traits you have in abundance."

"Better than being a murdering psychopath." He visibly rolled his eyes at her as she attempted to at least increase the distance between the length of his body and hers. Wishing he'd just let her down.

"Not going to happen Claire, you can't be trusted to sit back and stay out of it... I let you tag along, which I knew was going to bite me in the ass, just to prove to you that whilst you might become a hard ass bitch of a soldier, afraid of nothing and nobody, you aren't that woman yet."

"You forgot insane... clearly I go round the twist, there's no other way I'd let you within five feet of me unless it was to kill you." The barb struck him soundly and she saw his whole face twist drawing a deep sense of satisfaction from the notion that she could finally hurt the bastard... just like he'd hurt her. Only this time the twisted version of her from whatever fucked up future they came from wasn't around to reassure him.

Sylar pulled up short, clasping her around the waist firmly as they hung motionless in thin air, his dark eyes boring into her face with such intensity that she had to look away... her older self had eyes like that, eyes that saw straight through you, eyes that had seen forever and loathed it.

"Do you want me to hurt you Claire?" he hissed, "Is that it... taunt me until I snap and lash out at you, just to prove that the monster is still in here somewhere?" His one hand rose and slammed around her throat, closing off her air as he drew her face inches from his giving her no place else to look but at the simmering rage behind fathomless eyes. "She didn't tame me if that's what you think." He spat causing her to flinch despite herself as his fingers dug into unfeeling flesh. But he didn't let her speak, his fingers around her throat grew tighter, and with a sudden blast of air he dropped them rapidly until a city skyline appeared and he touched down on a rooftop. Claire struggled, trying to free herself, wary now that she may have pushed him too far, because whatever she wanted to think, this was a Sylar she honestly didn't understand... right now she'd have taken the old psychopath version over this newer one any day, better the devil you know right?

"I couldn't agree more." He hissed, dragging her across the asphalt and gravel by her throat, his face set into a grim line as he continued to drag information from her mind. They stopped and she had barely a second to comprehend what was happening as she was thrown to the floor, unable to feel the gravel that no doubt scoured her back, whilst he pinned her with one outstretched hand. Fear burst inside her chest, followed swiftly by anger that threatened to overwhelm her, she was sick to death of being manhandled by this bastard. He loomed over her with a dark expression carved across the set of his unlined face; yet somehow he still seemed ancient... and powerful.

"You've always admired that power haven't you Claire." He offered quietly his voice like silk as he watched her struggle against invisible bindings. "Whilst you desperately sought normality, craved it... you also craved power, over others, over your own ability." He smirked, not looking in the least bit amused. "I always admired that about you... the contradiction." He held her silent and she was forced to simply watch him as he paced around her, his predatory nature shining through.

"I don't think you're ever going to get over our issues Claire.... not in the way _my _Claire did, but then she had the end of the world to help her; no you'll fight it now that you've seen it. And an immortal enemy, even one as relatively harmless as you are right now, isn't something to take lightly. Immortality has a way of changing things." He cocked his head observing her as she managed to ball her fist at her side, desperate to lash out at him. "So I'm going to give you something Claire... something _my _Claire would probably despise me for attempting to give her; she's not fond of weakness. But you..." he smirked and her insides liquefied. "You just want to be normal... right until normal gets you killed."

'Oh god, he's going to kill me... really kill me.' She couldn't help the thought; it rattled around her brain and drew a cold shiver down her spine.

Sylar ducked down and ran a hand over her cheek in a sweeping caress. "Never." He promised her with conviction; not needing to elaborate further, she could hear the way his voice broke on the word.

'Don't rape me... oh please god not that, not again, I can't take it, please not that.' The thoughts crashed over her and he flinched, taking his hand back from her skin as if she'd burned him. In his surprise his power released her mouth and she took in a sharp breath. "Please... Sylar don't." She begged, watching as his eyes widened in what looked like anger, before she realised it was shock.

"I won't." He whispered quietly, leaning over her so that their eye lines were level, "Not in the way you mean." He added wincing as the words settled over her and she screamed internally at him as her mouth clamped shut. "It's a necessary violation Claire." He added and she shook her head forcefully, trying to make her legs move, kick out... something. His finger raised to her forehead and she froze, utterly immobile, she wasn't sure if it was him or her this time, but as blood began to slide down her cheeks from the gash he made in her forehead; there was no fighting it.

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**A/N: Sorry for the delay in posting this chapter and continuing this fic, I unfortunately had a deadline end of September for my thesis which took priority. This is the first fic I've updated as its written, normally I just post it all when its completed, but I think I prefer it this way, gives me time to get reader responses and modify ideas. Anyway apologies, hopefully it won't happen again, I'm not a fan of dragging fics out. Hope those of you that were enjoying it and have waited patiently will like the final few chapters.**


	25. Tourniquet

**Chapter 25: Tourniquet**

Claire stared blankly at the clear blue sky above her head, she was numb, physically and emotionally, for which she was oddly relieved. The trauma of Sylar prying her skull open was only slightly lessened by the fact that this time she couldn't feel a thing... and that strange certainty that she wasn't going to die from it. But just as before, it was a violation, as much as physical rape would have been... was there a more intimate an act than murder? He was inside her, his fingers ghosting over her brain once more, causing signals to flare, lights danced across her eyes, sensations and taste burst across her tongue, all bleeding into the sense of wrongness.

His face hovered over hers, his eyes catching hers, unlike the first time he had done this, where she'd pointedly looked at anything but him. She didn't ask what he was doing, wasn't sure she wanted to know. If he was trying to turn off her ability then she wouldn't survive the procedure... and she was certain there were simpler methods of disposing of her. No this was something more precise...

"Claire." His voice was soft, gentle, as if he was afraid to startle her out of her trance like state that was the only thing holding her together. His fingers ghosted down her cheek, sticky and warm, no doubt blood slicked. "I need you to focus for me." He whispered pressing a chaste kiss to her nose that made her blink and daw in a rattling breath. "I want you to tell me when it hurts." He added quietly and she flicked her eyes back to his; seeing finally the truth in the grim set of determination on his face. Her heart faltered and she fisted her hand at her side, trying not to let tears leak out... he was fixing her; giving back what he'd forced her body to rip away.

"Will it work?" she whispered, not daring to hope.

"Yes." Was his simple reply as her right arm twitched and her mouth went numb as he manipulated something unhelpful within her brain. "For a while at least. Trauma severe enough to effect the brain will likely cause a shut off of sensory perception again." Claire digested that through her oddly fuzzy sense of hearing and tried to process it.

"Try not to get hurt then..." she reasoned.

"A difficult concept for you I'd imagine." He quipped, his dark eyes catching hers once more and drawing her gaze to the tension that locked his jaw.

"Is it different now?" She breathed, hearing her breaths labouring as she struggled to stay conscious. "From the last time I mean."

Sylar paused and glanced back at her, "Only in the way I feel about doing this." he whispered, and she had to look away, she didn't want to sympathise with the man with his hands in her brain. "But even then... the last time we did this." he sighed, "I was eager, excited, desperate... and dying. But still, it was the most connected I'd ever felt to someone. Your brain Claire, your power, I was in awe of it... of you, I always am. This." he breathed stroking a finger along her brain reverently, "This is truth Claire... power, this is who you really are, and there are no secrets here between us."

"Does it answer your questions?" she managed around the numbness creeping over her mouth and the heaviness of her tongue; recalling the last time they'd been like this.

"Yes... a hundred times yes." He pressed a kiss to her forehead that forced her eyes shut. Something pressed down and her whole body spasmed, her teeth knit together and bit straight through her tongue, causing blood to spill into her mouth as she struggled to breathe past the scream that tore free.

"It hurts!" she screeched, clawing at the gravel beneath her as she tried to fight the sensation, "Stop, it hurts!" she managed before the sensation faded into nothing. Tears pricked her eyes as she took in a lungful of air. "It hurt..." she managed quietly, stunned.

Sylar held a scrap of cloth out over her head; she glanced at it, recognising material that had once been part of her shirt; before he'd clearly torn it free. "Bite down."Sylar snapped; she eyed it warily and the implications behind the offering, before opening her mouth and letting him slide the rag inside as she settled her teeth around it. "It'll hurt right up until the moment the skull heals over, once I start it." Claire blinked at him, nodding was beyond her body at this point as was speech with the rag in her mouth.

"I want you to know." He paused, and once again she felt his hands slide along her jaw as he lowered his head until their noses were almost touching as he stared over her; upside down in her line of sight. "That this..." he moved and she felt a rush of sensation pool low in her abdomen, curling her toes as she gasped shutting her eyes fiercely not wanting to see Sylar's face when desire was racing through her so violently. "This you'll never lose." Claire felt a tear leak out, she'd once confessed to Ethan her fears of losing even something as simple as the sensation as touch, apparently he'd listened. "I know how you feel about me Claire... all too well. I've spent the better part of half a millennium fighting to have you feel something else. But consider, would any other man ever be able to fight so long for you?" he sighed, "And since I have you like this, where you have to listen, I'm going to tell you something that _my _Claire and I had to learn the hard way... because I know me. He will never stop pursuing you once he figures out just how important you are to him, to his future. And he'll make the same offer I did... maybe not now, or in hundreds of years, but eventually he will come to you, and he'll offer you a child. Just like I did to _my _Claire."

Claire froze, the sensations of pleasure vanished and left her cold and empty, her eyes opened and she met the wet sheen of his, the rag falling free of her slack mouth. The agony on his face was too much and she wrenched her eyes away. He'd accused the other Claire, her future self of still grieving...

"He died." Sylar picked up on her line of thought, "He'd barely lived, but in seven years he was loved 700years worth."

"How?" she pressed loathing her own curiosity and the sense of heartache that bloomed in her chest, threatening to crush her.

"Fates a bitch." Sylar replied coolly. "It wasn't meant to be; but then he wasn't mine, not biologically ..."

Claire felt relief wash over her, that her future self hadn't committed that last act of betrayal and brought Sylar's spawn into the world.

"Don't." Sylar snarled, sounding torn and enraged at her internal thoughts. "You have no idea what we went through, how long we tried for. But I was..." his eyes grew distant.

"Impotent?" Claire smirked despite herself and watched as his anger only magnified, but she couldn't help herself, she wanted him to suffer, was glad he had.

"Contaminated." He snarled bitterly, "Because I could never deny you anything... I twisted my own genetics, let those things into my mind, my body. I saved the human race at the cost of my own humanity."

"I wasn't aware you had any to start with." Claire hissed feeling sick to her stomach with every barb she landed and the crumpled look that swept over him in response... this was supposed to make her feel better.

"The point." He hissed through his teeth, trying clearly with everything in him to reign in his temper, despite her best efforts to make him loose it. "I still think it's possible for you to have a child, with him, with me. But the risk..." he closed his eyes and she felt the way his whole body shuddered.

"Was it worth it?" she whispered, feeling tears strangle the hatred from her voice, leaving it only wispy. "All the pain, the trying... for only seven years?" She couldn't imagine.

Sylar opened his eyes and stared hard at her. "It's the one thing in my life I will never regret."

He didn't give her time to process that, he lifted the rag and shoved it back in her mouth, automatically her teeth clamped around it not a minute to soon, as a wave of agony tore through her body sending her ridged. In a moment of lucidity when the pain receded for a blissful moment she imagined he probably found this easier now after the things she'd just said to hurt him.

"It's not!" he gasped effort straining his voice, but she didn't dare open her eyes, couldn't as even her eyelids seemed to hurt as fresh waves of biting, shearing nauseating pain rolled over her. She felt on fire... only this time she wasn't healing over, her skin was one raw nerve of sensation. "Almost there." He promised her panting with whatever strain he was putting on himself to alter her biology, to alter her brain.

Something clicked and Claire fell slack. Her skin lost the sensation of burning, but her head... her head screamed in agony, sharp and bone deep. She felt him shift and opened her eyes to see him replacing her skull cap, feeling and sensation rushed back into her extremities, returning movement as the pain in her head finally disappeared. Claire paused, simply lying in a pool of her own blood, staring up at the sky and listening to Sylar's heavy breaths as he collapsed to the floor somewhere behind her. Slowly carefully she lifted a hand to her face and grasped the thumb with the other, she didn't hesitate wrenching with as much force as she could muster, as fast as she could until the bone cracked and hung at an odd angle. For a second there was nothing... then pain shot through her violently and she cried out, feeling tears stab her eyes as she cradled the damaged digit, until it realigned itself and reformed, only then did the pain vanish. It was such a simple thing, but it was everything to her, a connection to her body, to everyone else, the relief washed over her and she blinked away the tears, feeling the hysterical need to laugh.

Sylar rose, she felt him before she saw him looming over her, watching her with an odd mixture of loathing and love on his face that left her deeply unsettled. His hand extended out to her, she glanced at it, longing to simply slap it away, she didn't want or need his help... only he'd helped her anyway. He'd given her back her humanity.

"You once did the same for me." He shrugged nonchalantly, but she wasn't fooled she saw the fear that flashed in his eyes at whatever dark memories he held. "Several times in fact." He added, resolving himself to expecting nothing from her as he leant forward and grasped her hand anyway, yanking her effortlessly up to her feet, before attempting to drop her hand.

Claire stared at their joined hands, and tightened her grip, feeling him pause clearly startled that she'd prolong contact with him for any reason. Although, he was in her head, which meant that he was probably more aware than she was the reasons she was doing this.

"Thank you." She told him quietly, not quite able to meet his gaze, choosing instead to stare at his bloodstained hand in hers.

He didn't say anything and she risked a glance, he was quiet, even his expression refusing to give anything away as he merely watched her. She wondered if that kind of stillness was something that was just him... or if it came from being so impossibly old. Perhaps he was dancing on the inside, maybe there was a sarcastic remark he longed to make but had bitten down on instead. His thumb brushed across the back of her hand, reminding her that he could hear her as clearly as if she were speaking, before he tugged lightly on her hand, propelling her forward against his chest. His arms went around her and she tried not to freeze or flinch, holding on to the feeling of gratitude for as long as her rage at him would let her. Her feet left the ground as he took them up once more.

"Where are you taking me?" she asked quietly, barely hearing the words herself as the wind whipped past them, his arms shifted, holding her closer than she thought was probably necessary.

"Out of harm's way."

"I'm not a child. I can fight!" she snarled, gratitude evaporating as anger once again flooded her, it rose too easily these days.

"You shouldn't be in such a hurry to grow up Claire, stay young for a while. You have an eternity to grow hard and cold." Sylar's voice was so embittered and honest that it stole the argument straight out of her lungs in a rush of air at those words. What was she supposed to say to that?

She fell silent, only stirring when she recognised the town they flew over, the residential houses. He was taking her home. He settled them down gently on the back porch of her mother's house in Costa Verde, instantly Mr Muggles could be heard barking behind the back door, scratching in an attempt to get out to them. Sylar's hands slid away from her and she dropped to her feet, stepping away from each other a respectful distance and both turning to eye the other warily.

"He'll always follow you... but he'll never hurt you Claire. Not anymore." Sylar told her quickly, hearing just as she could, the sounds of someone coming to investigate. "When he returns he won't be the same monster. Just try to bear that in mind." Claire nodded, not willing to trust her voice; to have the future Sylar tell you, you had nothing to fear from his younger self was oddly liberating.

"I can't forgive him." She told him pointedly.

"Not yet." He added that smirk sliding back onto his features. "And maybe never this time around. But it's something worth considering; we do make a good team." He didn't give her the chance to respond, he was simply gone, winked out of existence... teleported. She frowned, he could have used that ability to bring her here, or to that rooftop, instead he'd chosen to carry her the whole way, to hold her close. Claire felt her lips thin... same old Sylar.


	26. Surprise Me

**Chapter 26: Surprise Me**

Claire sat watching quietly as the teams cleared up the carnage of the final nest, there had been three in total, once she'd figured out how to modify the original beacon into a jamming signal it had been a simple method of tracking them, using that same signal. Too easy. She tossed the rock in her hand bouncing it off the debris of what had once been a jeep and sat back resting on her elbows, legs crossed, trying to simply exist without thinking. The Earth was saved... at least for now, but for the first time in a long time she was optimistic about the future; they were forewarned and forearmed, surely there was nothing more she could do?

Sighing she closed her eyes and tried to enjoy the quiet, it had been so long since she could simply sit beneath a blue sky and feel the heat of the sun on her face; there were no sounds of gunfire, no detonations, no screams, no clattering of marines, no one praying under their breath to and for her; no hum of an engine as it cut through the deadness of space.

His approach though silent was a carefully orchestrated explosion of noise to her, but she would recognise his silent gait anywhere, even after centuries. She didn't open her eyes as he came to tower over her, before sliding down to sit beside her, resting back, his pose a mirror of hers, but then she supposed it had been his originally anyway.

"So what happens now?" his voice resonated through her and she had to quiet the flutter of grief never forgotten and not quite gotten over. Opening her eyes she turned to stare at him, watching as the light reflected of his horn rimmed glasses, making his eyes shine almost unnaturally blue. He never looked old, never seemed to age, it was an irony not lost on her, but then she had only memories of him this way, his life had never lingered on until he was nothing but a pale shadow of the man he'd been.

"I owe you an apology." she informed him quietly, not dropping his powerful gaze, as he took the opportunity to examine her unchanged features, no doubt drawing his own conclusions as to what had made her emerald eyes as hard as stone. "Because I never got the chance to say that to _my_ father. Hopefully now you will never have to know why." They lapsed into silence, she'd thought it would be uncomfortable, to sit with a man who'd raised you for 18years of your life, and then been absent the next 763years of it. To say his influence on the person she became had been of biblical proportions would have been to do it a disservice.

"I forgive you the lies." She added as the silence stretched, locking their gazes once more. "Not to, would be to make myself a hypocrite. I understand now; it took me centuries to get it, but I understand how sometimes you have to lie... to live in the grey, to protect those you love."

"I never wanted you to have to learn that lesson Claire." He told her solemnly and she nodded, dropping her head and allowing a small smile at the raw honesty in his voice.

"A parent's job is never easy." She acknowledged and he blinked.

"You had children?" he asked a slight smile causing the corners of his eyes to wrinkle, before a shadow passed over it as he no doubt connected the dots as to the likely father.

"I had one child... after years of trying and failing, one child after the world ended." She felt her throat constrict, but there were no tears left now; she didn't want to spend forever avoiding the memory of her son's death, she wanted to remember him the way he'd lived. "His name was Adam, and he never saw the Earth, or it's blue sky, the green grass. He was born and buried on an alien world beneath a burnt orange sky, to parents who could save all of humanity, but they couldn't save him."

"Claire..." his voice broke and she glanced up to see tears shining in his eyes; his heartbreak helped to ease her own, to know that someone else grieved for the little boy, who's every breath at the end of the world, had been a struggle.

"It's ok." She told him smiling gently and grasping the hand he'd tentatively laid between them; he squeezed it tightly. "I was also mother to the entire human race... granted Sylar was the father, which made us a somewhat dysfunctional family, but still I think I've had my fill of responsible parenting." He didn't crack a smile, but it didn't matter, his hand was warm and comforting in hers. "I understand." She squeezed his hand back; "And she will too. Hopefully sooner rather than later, but I think we may have helped her along with that realisation."

He scooted a little closer to her so that he could hesitantly slide his arm around her shoulders, she sank into his comforting embrace, even if it was slightly more difficult in SWAT gear. "Second chances are a rare thing Claire." He reminded her needlessly, tucking her head underneath his chin.

Claire smiled ruefully. "For those of you that don't live forever, I'd agree." She felt his answering smile without needing to see it.

"I'm proud of you Claire." He whispered quietly and pressed a kiss into her hair. "I won't humour you by pretending to understand you, or the events that shaped you." He sighed, "The things you've seen... the time." He held her closer. "I always knew that you wouldn't age, that the likelihood of you dying young wasn't something I'd ever have to survive. But I never really took the time to imagine... to believe that my little Claire-bear might see the end of everything."

"I would imagine it might have made punishing me for skipping out on classes or not staying grounded seem somewhat pointless if you had." She quipped and he chuckled lightly, squeezing tighter, not that it bothered her circulation any.

They lapsed once more into comfortable silence, watching the teams finish up the site, everyone giving them a wide berth as they held each other.

"About Sylar?" he began hesitantly and Claire sighed.

"Sylar is what he is dad." She admitted. "A force of nature, you could no more ignore him than you could a crashing wave that was breaking over your head."

"He wasn't what I wanted for you. Not by a long shot."

Claire smiled thinly and pulled out of his arms so that she could see his face. "I would be lying if I said he was what I wanted for myself either. But somehow it works... we fit."

"But he's Sylar... nothing he could do would ever erase what he's done." He argued, but even she could tell his heart wasn't in it; he was beginning to understand, he just didn't want to.

"You can't go forever hating someone dad... it twists you inside, corrupts and blackens. It hollows you out until there's nothing left but the rage. It took me a long time to realise that if I let it, I would become worse than anything he ever was. I had to forgive, even if I could never forget."

"Do you love him?" her father asked hesitantly, she could hear the desperation that clung to those words, and she knew that in this timeline Noah Bennett would do everything in his power to ensure that _this_ Sylar hadn't a snowballs chance in hell with his little girl. She wished him the best of luck with that.

"Against my better judgement... yes." He squeezed his eyes shut, clearly trying to remember what he'd just told her about not being able to understand her life... or the things she'd experienced. "We're opposite in almost every way that counts, except for the parts where we're the same. We're mirror images, reflecting each other forever. I can't leave him. I wouldn't want to." She admitted, it was almost a relief to say it aloud.

"Because there's no one else." He nodded, looking relieved because he thought he'd understood... he hadn't.

"Initially, I won't lie that was part of it. But the fear of being alone can't sustain you forever. I almost lost him once... right at the end of everything, after all we'd been through, survived, I almost lost him. I realised then that I could survive being alone forever... I just wouldn't _want_ to survive without him; there would be no point to anything. "

After that it seemed there was nothing more to discuss, no words he could say to reconcile the idea, so he said nothing, for which she was grateful.

It took a faint pop to rouse them both, Sylar stood before them, his eyes caught hers before taking in the scene before him he looked faintly amused but oddly pleased to see them together. Claire's eyes drifted down to his hands, they were tinged in red that he clearly wanted her to see, because he could have easily removed it. Her father's gaze followed hers and she felt him tense.

"Where's Claire!" he jumped to his feet dragging her up with him. "You son of a bitch, what did you do with her?" he snarled held back by her hand resting gently on his chest.

Sylar's eyes found hers and she saw the tension in his jaw, the haunted look of a man that had listened to the face of the woman he loved, whilst it hurled abuse and spewed bile at him for the better part of the afternoon. He would never tell her just how deeply the words her younger self used cut him, but then she thought he didn't need to; and in a way her younger self deserved her vengeance. It was just a pity it had to be aimed at _this _Sylar.

"I gave her what she wanted." He spoke through grit teeth, clearly trying to ignore the gun that Bennett had aimed his way. "Peace offering."

Claire took in his blood stained hands again, her stomach clenched tightly and she stared at him wordlessly, not sure what would come out of her mouth if she dared to open it, so she kept her lips pressed tightly together.

"What?" her father raged, "What the hell does that mean you son of a bitch?"

Sylar met his gaze and she watched her father pause at the depth in it. "She's at her mother's, you should call her." Her father gave him one hard look before turning on his heel, he shared one last fleeting look with her, but the moment was broken, he had his own Claire-bear to worry about now.

"Is she still sane?"Claire asked him the moment her father was out of ear shot, not able to hide the anger that blistered her voice, she'd trusted him with her younger self...

"It was what she wanted Claire." He told her quietly, not rising to her anger, seemingly too exhausted to say anything else.

"I think I know her a little better than you." She snapped irritated in a way only Sylar could manage.

"Then tell me I'm wrong." He replied just as smoothly; not missing a beat.

Claire paused, avoiding looking at his bloodstained hands. "I wouldn't want that... not like that, not ever again." She admitted feeling bile rise just at the idea of being tampered with, of being weakened, of rejecting something that was as much a part of her as her original ability.

"No _you _wouldn't." He corrected her and she felt her fist clench. "But she isn't you, and she never will be, especially not now." Claire absorbed his argument tilting her chin up to see his face clearly, needing to see his eyes. The warm brown of them slid over her, reaching out, praying for her forgiveness, her understanding.

"She thanked you." She realised quietly. He nodded once, a jerky movement as if he could hardly comprehend it himself.

Claire dropped his eyes and took in a shaky breath, there were drawbacks she realised to being with someone that could still surprise you even after all this time. Taking a step forward she came inches away from him, pressing her chest against his stomach and raising her hand to slide along his stubbled jaw. "Then there is nothing to forgive." She admitted watching as the tension bled out of him, "But I don't want you anywhere near her... ever again." His face registered nothing but resignation; at least he understood that he was toxic to her younger self.

"I don't need to, I have you." He leant forward and crushed his lips against her forehead, before enveloping her in his arms with a shudder of release.

The angry phone conversation her father was holding came to an abrupt end and she heard him stalking back towards them, others were also beginning to circle. The question mark that hung over the two of them needed resolving and apparently its time had come.

"I think we have outstayed our welcome." She informed him quietly, wrapping her arms around his waist as he angled her head up; pressing a kiss to her lips which stole her breath and spoke volumes.

"Where to?" he breathed, curving a smile against her own lips.

"It doesn't matter." Claire admitted, brushing her fingers over his face, memorising this moment, the moment _their_ war ended. "This is our happily ever after... surprise me." The air rippled and there was feint pop, as they vanished into forever.

--- _fin ---_

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**A/N: This is the end... oddly cheerful for one of mine but I think they deserved it after all the shit I put them through in this fic. If I ever pick this fic up again it will be to fill in some of the blanks of the intervening years... what happened to them for the first 500 etc. but we'll see. **

**Thanks to all those that have read and enjoyed this, thanks to the reviewers for their positive remarks and support, it's always nice to know that people appreciate your writing; you guys are the reason I began posting these, so that I could share my warped imagination with people that would understand ********. I should have some more fics coming soon, so I hope you stick with me and enjoy those.**


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